Duty
by PrincessKanako
Summary: Calassë, the Arryian princess, remains on Coruscant and grows closer to Qui-Gon, even as the Arryian war ends and the need for the heir is desperate. But then, another war shatters their tranquillity and Calassë is forced to choose: duty...or desire? Second part of 'Thawing' series, in an alt 'Attack of Clones' universe. Obi-Wan KenobiXOC, Qui-Gon-JinnxOC, OCxOC, PadméxOC
1. A Practised Eye

**Chapter one**

A practiced eye sighted down the arrow's shaft, the string of the bow taut. All about, one could hear the comforting sounds of the rising morning, and the cheerful cry of morning birds awakening. But the archer's thoughts were focused on nothing but the wooden target. The string released with a twang, followed immediately by the familiar thunk of an arrow, burying itself in the center of the target. Another arrow was drawn from the quiver. Fitting the nock to the bowstring, it was once again drawn back, sighted at the goal, and released the string. The arrow struck its mark true, and the archer smiled with satisfaction, seeing the first arrow split cleanly down the middle by the second shaft.

"Good morning, Calassë."

Turning abruptly, eyes lighting with joy, the archer bowed.

"Qui-Gon."

The man had appeared behind her, pausing beneath the arching gate, a smile of greeting on his bearded face. There were several Padawans huddled together as they gazed up at her with wide eyes. She barely noticed them as she took in Qui-Gon's welcome appearance. Cream-coloured robes, broad chest, smiling lips, sapphire eyes...oh, she could go on for quite a while.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" She asled, looking up at him.

"The Council requests that you train these Padawans," he gestured to the group beside him.

Calassë grinned, her violet eyes shining with mischief.

"I don't believe it was mentioned to me the other day," she said, her voice calm as she pushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear.

"They do apologise for the inconvinence," Qui-replied, "And Master Yoda begs your indulgence."

"Of course," Calassë giggled. "If Master Yoda asks, then I will set myself to the task happily."

Grasping her hand in a gesture of thanks, Qui-Gon disappeared, leaving her alone with the Padawans who continued to stare up at her with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Welcome to your first archery lesson," she smiled, restraining laughter at the looks of surprise that came onto their faces as she addressed them. "Have you no tongues?" she asked teasingly after a moment of stunned silence.

The students glanced at each other, abashed, before two of them nudged the one at the front, a stout little boy with an honest looking face, who seemed to be the leader.

"Begging your pardon, m'- m'lady," he finally spoke, stepping forward, twisting his hands nervously. "We're just a little taken back is all. We didn't know girls did this sort of thing." He nodded at her target. She glanced down at the bow in her hand, and smiled.

"My teacher saw to it that I was taught the skills of fighting, just as the men of my people learned."

One of the other students piped in cheefully, "Have you ever been in a battle?" He asked eagerly. "Have you ever killed anything?"

"Once, over ten years ago," Calassë nodded, but added quickly, "But far away from here. I helped drive the enemy back across the river."

"Oh." The stout boy in the front nodded, impressed. "Whoever taught you then, must be quite good, too."

Calassë dropped her eyes at the boy's words, feeling the familiar painful ache.

"He was," she nodded, hearing the quaver in her voice as she pictured his face in her mind. She glanced up to see the boy shuffle his feet shyly, and shook herself back to the present.

"Forgive me," she smiled. "Of course, you must be eager to start. Follow me." She turned away down a tree lined path as the boys trailed after her. "I'll get you some bows and arrows," she glanced at them over her shoulder, "oh, and what are your names?"

"B-Beinion, m'lady," The first boy said.

"I'm Daugion," a Twil'ick volunteered. "My friends call me Dion."

"Then I would be honored if I was granted the privilege of calling you Dion as well."

The Twil'ick smiled at this, and ducked his head shyly.

"I'm Vanafindon, m'lady." a second Twil'ick said. "But Vandon's fine."

The youngest boy who had asked about battles before, pipped in, "I'm Mor-Morci-Morcion-" He stammered to a stop, blushing bright red.

"If I'm allowed, I'll call you whatever your friends do," Calassë offered, smiling sympathetically at his embarrassment.

"Morci, then," Vandon offered helpfully. "Don't mind him."

Calassë smiled as Morci glared at Vandon. These students promised to be interesting.

* * *

**Chapter one. Can't believe I'm on the second part of the (hopefully) trilogy of **Thawing**. I recommend you read **Thawing**, to understand what's going on in **Growing**, but you don't have to.  
**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	2. I will gladly

**Chapter two**

Moirae glided purposefully along the corridor, her face a mask of concentration as she made her way to her rooms. Her skirts swished softly about her as she walked, her feet tapping softly over the marble tiles that lined the corridor. To her left, the sound of birdsong filled the air, but she could not hear it. Her concentration was riveted on one thought alone. In spite of herself, she flinched and her step slowed, the memory coming back as clearly as when she had been there, standing once again at the edge of the city wall in the heart of Sanctus. Sweat and blood caked her clothing and armor, her body aching from the strain and horror of battle. Moirae could still feel the icy winds sweeping up around her, whipping her cloak about, sucking the air from her lungs.

"Moirae?" A clear, well-loved voice filled with care and concern broke the spell of her stupor, and she lifted her head, surprised to realize she had stopped, and was leaning heavily against the wall, her head bent in exhaustion. The voice that had been spoken belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi who stood at her shoulder, his shining eyes gazing into hers with worry. "Are you alright, Moirae?" he repeated.

Obi-Wan's touch helped to sooth her, and she straightened, smiling gratefully into his soft, caring eyes. Though it had been several years, it seemed as if only a few months had passed since the Princess of Arryn and her ladies had arrived in Coruscant. They had known nothing of the mysterious planet, but had been taken in and cared for at the Temple, and Moirae had flourished under the watchful care of Obi-Wan. She blessed the day that the Council had brought them here, for she could not imagine life without the bright eyed Jedi who stood beside her now, gazing down at her with concern .

"I'm well, Obi," she nodded at last. "Just a little tired."

Obi-Wan sighed in relief, and stepped back, a mischievous smile on his face. "Yes, last night was rather exhausting, wasn't it? I don't recall you complaining though."

Moirae blushed. "Well, I haven't been sleeping well at all for the past few weeks, Master Kenobi, _if_ you recall."

"Ah, yes," Obi-Wan said smugly, "I believe I do."

Moirae had turned a spectacular shade of crimson at this point.

"Watch your words, Master Kenobi," she murmured, "The walls have ears-"

"I don't really care," Obi-Wan retorted. "The law has been passed, we can be together, and if anyone has a problem with it, they can deal with me."

Moirae nodded quickly searching his eyes, wondering at the earnestness in them. She glanced away, her eyes searching the ground, thinking over Obi-Wan's words. Her mouth worked silently, unable to make words come out.

"You're right when you say we can be together," she managed quietly. Obi-Wan's hands tightened around hers. "I just don't want to leave Calassë. She's been through so much."

"You are no slave. You are a free woman." Obi-Wan's voice was gentle, yet intense.

"So Calassë has said," she agreed, then smiled and finished, "Rather pointedly."

"She is fond of you, isn't she?" Obi-Wan chuckled. Moirae's smile grew, her heart brightening to see him light hearted once again. Obi-Wan noted her smile, and his eyes grew shiny with wetness as a hand came up and cupped her face.

"Understand this, Moirae," he said, his face growing serious once again. "Whatever it is you fear, I vow to you that it'll not hurt you. If I must, I'll defend you from it, even if it's the entire force of the Dark Side."

Moirae's heart caught on a beat as she studied his eyes, a captivating ivory grey, their intense gaze fixed adoringly on her, and knew he meant all that he said.

"Then understand _this_, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she returned. "If that time comes, I'll stand _beside_ you, and we'll defend each other. For I won't let the man I have given my heart to fight alone."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed as she said this, and as the last words came out of her mouth, his own opened slightly as if he wished to speak, and could think of nothing to say.

"I couldn't say this before, though I wanted to," Moirae sighed, her eyes drooping as she spoke, "but now, with all that you have said, you have freed my heart, and I no longer fear to speak." She lifted her eyes shyly to his, as they gazed into her own with hope and expectancy. "I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"I love you, Moirae," he returned, his words gentle, yet at the same time, impassioned. "I could love no other. Tell me you'll be my bride. That you'll marry me."

"Yes," she returned eagerly, pressing a gold banded ring that she slipped from her finger into the palm of his hand. His fist tightened around it. "I will gladly bind myself to you, for all eternity." She smiled blissfully up into his eyes, and drew a step back from him. "Come on," she implored. "Let's go tell Calassë."

She turned to lead him back to the house, but he did not move to follow after her. His hand caught hers, and he pulled her back to him, catching her firmly against his chest.

"Not yet," he murmured with a mischievous smirk. Moirae smiled, knowing what he wanted, and drew close, slipping her arms up around his neck, feeling the silk of his hair between her fingers. Her eyes closed as his face lowered to hers, and when their lips met, she kissed him joyfully, with no hesitation or reluctance. He sensed her willing response, and pulled her even closer, nearly lifting her off of her feet as he kissed her with more passion and longing than she had felt from him before, and leaving her breathless and exhilarated when he finally released her, and set her back on her feet.

"Now my love," he said, playfully kissing the tip of her nose. "_Now_ we can go speak to Calassë."

* * *

**Chapter two. Yay, Moirae and Obi are engaged! Oooh, you're gonna love the upcoming plot-twists!  
**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	3. Choices and Honour

**Chapter three**

The night shadows were cool and a refreshingly restful change from the celebration over the past day. The terraces of the city that fell below her vantage point, shone silver and onyx beneath the gentle moonlight as I, with a small cup of sweet wine in my hand, leaned against a square beam of stone between the archways upon the veranda. Qui-Gon was scratching away thoughtfully at a scroll of paper with a quill, as Clio sat beside him and taught him Arryian. Moirae was curled up sleepily in Obi-Wan's arms, tugging drowsily upon the sleeves of the gown she wore. The dress was finely seamed, sewn of soft velvet of forest green, and embroidered richly at the throat, and at the wide sleeves that hung open from her wrists. Obi-Wan himself was resting his chin in the crown of Moirae's auburn tresses, his eyes distant.

Which reminded me...

"Obi-Wan?" I asked softly, not wishing to disturb the peaceful mood in the room, "Can speak with you."

"What troubles you?" Obi-Wan murmured, as Moirae made as if to get up and come with us, but I shook my head.

"No, not you, Moirae," I requested, "Just Obi-Wan."

"Why?" Moirae asked, shooting a glance of uncertainty at me. A worried look claimed Clio's face, and she stood up.

"It's nothing," I murmured, putting a hand upon Moirae's shoulder, and smiling. "We'll be back in a few moments."

I gave a last smile, and motioned for Obi-Wan to follow me, then turned, and led him through the chamber, and out into the cool shadow of the corridor.

* * *

As we stepped into my private sitting room, now lit with flickering candles set along the wall in tall rods of dark iron, the doors slid shut behind us, and we were alone.

"Here we are, Master Kenobi," I called my shoulder, offering a warm smile. "Thank you, for coming, though the hour is late. Come closer," I urged, lifting a hand and beckoning him toward me before I chuckled softly. "Ah, but I speak in haste, for you are but a child. Doubtless you are ages younger than I. And yet-"

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow at this, but stayed silent.

"Do you wish for something to eat, or drink perhaps?" I asked. "Sit," I urged, guiding him toward a table set near the pillars. It sat half in shadow, a carved wooden seat at its head, and another smaller chair at its ride hand, the two chairs set close together. A silver decanter of wine, and two glasses sat beside a tray piled with small white cakes.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan murmured softly as he sat.

"Doubtless you're wondering why I've called you here," I replied, taking the chair at the head of the table, and folding my hands upon it, smiling again at him.

"I am not."

I grew silent.

"But surely you would know," I breathed, "that I wished to speak to you about Moirae."

* * *

At this, Obi-Wan's heart clenched, and his shoulders fell as he slowly nodded. Of course. Why else would she have called him? Moirae had already confessed to him that Calassë may have difficulty in letting her go. Yet, why had she not also asked for Moirae?

"What would you wish to know, my lady?" he said, clasping, struggling to still the anger that surged again within his heart. Calassë turned her eyes upon him as she smiled once again, a gentle smile as of a sister to her brother.

"How strong you are," she murmured softly, her smile lingering, though her eyes grew sad. "To have come to us in this dark time. That you're the one Moirae's heart softened to at last, doesn't surprise me."

Obi-Wan shifted in his chair, his hands tightening as Calassë reached thoughtfully for the wine, and the soft flow of tumbling liquid seemed to echo long in the quiet as Calassë filled both glasses, then pushed one toward him.

"I'd never have dreamed she would learn to love a mortal," Calassë mused, taking a thoughtful sip. "But then, I don't doubt that her sacrifice would have been a small thing for her, in exchange for your love. But it doesn't surprise me. Moirae wouldn't give her love to a weak hearted man."

Obi-Wan's throat had grown swiftly dry as Calassë had spoken. What sacrifice?

"My lady," he asked swiftly straightening in his chair, and ignoring the glass before him, "Moirae is a beautiful woman, good and honourable; her faults few in the light of her many virtues. But my lady-"

"_Just_ Calassë, Obi-Wan," she smiled, "You are betrothed to the woman I consider a sister, after all."

To this, Obi-Wan nodded, and continued more hurriedly than before.

"But I must admit, I am confused by your words," he swallowed before taking the plunge, "_What_ sacrifice do you mean?"

"She never told you?" Calassë muttered, a sadness veiling her eyes with the suddenness of a storm cloud rolling before the sun.

"Told me what?" Obi-Wan blurted, struggling to hide his exasperation at the woman's vagueness. "Moirae mentioned that you'd be difficult but this-"

"I'm going to ignore that little comment," Calassë growled suddenly, her eyes growing hard, and to this, Obi-Wan felt a twinge of guilt. "What I'm speaking of is not to tell anyone. You can only discuss this with Moirae. Only her. Understand?"

"Perfectly," Obi-Wan grated.

"What you must understand about my people is our lifespan," she explained, moving away from the table, her arms folded before she wheeled back and stared at him. "We can live for hundreds and thousands of years. You could say that we are almost immortal." She paused. "Of course, I say 'almost'. We can be killed with a blade or an arrow or poison just like you can. However, when an Arryian marries outside of our race, they share their lifespan with their spouse."

Obi-Wan remained silent for a long moment, the quiet of the shadowed room weighted as he drew in a heavy breath that swelled his chest before he released it in a sigh.

"So in loving me, she shortens her own life," he muttered quietly at last, his eyes dropping to the table before him.

"Yes," Calassë breathed, her voice falling quietly back into its place. "But she gives that time to you, so you will not be parted so swiftly."

Obi-Wan's face fell at this. "I didn't know," he whimpered, falling heavily back into the wooden chair, "She never told me."

"She wasn't sure how to," Calassë reasoned, looking him in the eyes "And I believe this is her choice to make. All you must do is honour it."

* * *

******Chapter three. For **Equoise******, who was looking for some Moirae/Obi-Wan goodness. Here you go!  
**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	4. Price of Passion

**Chapter four**

Moirae sighed as she strolled along the corridors, her mind filled with memories, as she made her slow way to her rooms. Her hand trailed lightly over the walls as she moved, her eyes half closed as she drank in the now familiar scents of her new home, soothing her soul. Lifting her eyes to the sky, she studied the dark blue dome that faded gradually to a line of lighter blue in the west, where the first star winked down as others began to prick the night sky.

She was alone. And though she was tired from the flurried activity of the day, she didn't wish to sleep. Not yet.

It had been a week since she had agreed to marry Obi-Wan, and the time had flown. Never had the Temple been filled with such flurry of activity! But, Moirae smiled to herself, never before had there been a wedding here. But at last, everything was ready, now. With a low sigh, she paused, gazing out into the cool blue shadows of twilight. Her dress was beautiful, as white as pearl and ivory, and Moirae smiled to think of it, the feel of the cloth, soft as cloud against her fingers. And Obi-Wan's robes, though she hadn't seen them yet, were no less exquisite; Calassë had promised her as her violet eyes danced with joy, and with laughter on her lips even as the other maids worked, weaving and sewing with little rest.

Moirae hugged her arms to herself, gazing pleadingly up at the night sky. How she wished the night would pass quickly, and the morning would come! How she wished Obi-Wan was...As if in answer to her unspoken desire, two arms drew silently about her from behind, and two warm hands covered her own where they rested on her arms. She shivered at the warmth of his firm body against hers.

"Obi-Wan," she breathed, closing her eyes, and leaning back against his shoulder as she drew her arms to herself, letting him circle his arms about her more securely.

"Morning will come sooner, Moirae, if you went to bed," he whispered softly against her ear, his breath washing across, and sending shivers of warmth through her.

"Then why are you in bed yourself?" she replied, her voice light and teasing. Obi-Wan laughed softly at her words, and circled his arms more firmly about her.

"I confess, I'm like you; I don't to sleep." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "I can't sleep, for thoughts of you Moirae." He swallowed softly, his voice hushed with wonder, "For before the moon shines down again, we will belong to each other. All restraint will be- gone."

Slowly, Moirae turned within the circle of his arms, to meet his eyes as he towered above her. His gaze was soft and shadowed, even as his eyes caught the light of the stars in them, warm with adoration. Releasing a low sigh, she leaned in near to him, resting her head against the warmth of his shoulder, her face turned outward, gazing down the long shadowed hall, empty and silent as starlight spilled in through the windows.

His arms about her, strong and sure, and the warmth of his hot flesh through the cloth between them, messed with her mind, and she couldn't think, didn't want to, and she struggled to rise from the thoughtless bliss she wanted to fall into.

"We should go," she murmured.

"Yes, we should," Obi-Wan agreed, even as his arms drew more tightly about her. For a long moment, they stood, both knowing what they should do, though neither was willing to leave the other.

"I want to kiss you," Obi-Wan hissed huskily, "more than I've ever wanted to."

"If you kissed me," Moirae gulped softly, "neither of us would wish for it to stop."

Obi-Wan nodded against her hair, saying nothing as, with a sigh of deep reluctance, his arms loosened her, and he stepped back with visible effort. Moirae pressed back against the wall, catching her hands behind her against the cool marble, her fingers tightening to restrain herself from following him. Their eyes fixed upon each other as they struggled to quiet their swift breathing. The space between them pulsed with passion, and Moirae shuddered, her heart wrenching as Obi-Wan forced himself back another step.

"You should go," she breathed.

"Yes," he returned, his voice fraught with humility, his brows furrowed in sweet torment above eyes that shone in the starlight as he disappeared, leaving Moirae with shaking hands and a wildly beating heart.

* * *

******Chapter four. Many thanks to **Equoise******, who reviewed twice in one day. Thanks! **

******I had this chapter ready a few days ago, but didn't publish it because I heard of the shooting in America, and wanted to spend some time with my family. It's terrible that this happened to such young children - it's terrible full stop - and I cried when I heard. Those kids and their brave teachers will always be remembered.**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	5. Yours

**Chapter five**

Moirae sighed contentedly, slowly coming back to the waking world, but unwilling to fully return as she let part of her mind remain in the bliss of her dreams.

Once again she was reliving the scurried preparations of the previous day, as Lady Calassë, and her maids rushed about her at a frenzied pace while she alone sat as still as a slender tree in the midst of them. She remembered the glittering white gown, scooped in front, and hanging delicately from her soft shoulders, while the long silky sleeves tapered down her arms, ending in a point on the backs of her wrists. The waist was tight enough to accentuate her form, but not restricting, and the skirt was full, shimmering in the soft blue light of the lamps as Calassë's maidens helped her into it, and then brushed her long, autumn-coloured hair until it fell about her like shimmering silk.

Then Calassë had placed a plaited circlet of blue and gold flowers draped with a long, gossamer veil, upon Moirae's hair, white and transparent, hanging long over her face and her shoulders, the last touch before Calassë had helped Moirae to her feet, and led her down the steps from the pavilion where Calassë and her maidens had readied her, and onto the lush grass of a green lawn spread before a white, vine entwined bower. Jedi, dressed in their finest robes, and each holding a slender silver wine glass, stood expectantly to each side forming an aisle down which Moirae would pass, their heads, as in one body, turning as the Princess of Arryn led Moirae into view.

Moirae paused nervously, and Calassë turned, offering her a smile of gentle encouragement. Moirae returned it, before she turned her eyes forward, and her gaze became lost in Obi-Wan's eyes where he stood beneath the bower, waiting for her.

Moirae forgot all else but his eyes as Calassë led her forward through the crowd, then released her hand and joined Qui-Gon who stood nearby as Moirae ascended the few steps alone, into the quiet shade of the bower and slipped her hands into Obi-Wan's, her eyes hardly blinking, never leaving his own.

"You are so beautiful," she remembered Obi-Wan murmuring beneath his breath for her alone before he squeezed her hands, and spoke aloud for all to hear.

"Moirae," he said, speaking slowly, his voice low, though it rang with conviction and joy, "in free will and in love, I bind myself to you before the heavens, the Gods, and before the eyes of our people, for all eternity, through all our joys, and all our pains, never to be parted from you except-"

Obi-Wan suddenly stopped here, and a worried look came into his eyes as he gazed down into her own. The word he should have spoken was _death_. But somehow he could not speak it. The word would not come to his lips.

Qui-Gon and Calassë cast a questioning glance at each other, but said nothing.

"Obi-Wan," Moirae began quickly, speaking in a smooth, clear voice, "in free will and in love I bind myself to you before the heavens, the Gods, and before the eyes of our people for all eternity, through all our joys and all our pains." Here she ended the pronouncement of the tradition wedding vows of the Arriyans, and leaning closer, whispering for only Obi-Wan to hear, "And, the Gods willing, I will only love you better, should death ever take one of us."

A mist formed in Obi-Wan's eyes, and she smiled her love up at him as at the base of the steps, Calassë raised a silver wine glass, and called in a clear, joyful voice, "Hail, Obi-Wan and Moirae, may your love be great, and may the blessings of the Gods rest upon your union."

Qui-Gon, and the rest of the gathering raised their glasses as well, and in one voice, repeated Calassë's blessing. Moirae caught a breath in her throat now, as Obi-Wan released her hands, and took hold of the edge of the veil, lifting it reverently away from her face. Calassë had drawn closer, and he turned to the Princess of Arryn, taking the silver wine glass she offered him, then carefully set it at Moirae's lips as she took a sip of the sweet liquid, then took the glass into her own hands, and offered him a sip as well before she handed the glass back to Calassë who took it with a smile, and stepped back. Moirae looked upward once again at Obi-Wan who smiled now, and bent his head downward toward hers.

"I love you," he murmured before their lips met in a warm, gentle kiss, sealing their vows.

Moirae slowly opened her eyes, gazing up into Obi-Wan's face, and the sudden realization that he was now her own, her husband, gripped her heart, and brought tears to her eyes. Obi-Wan, she could see, was feeling as she was, for his eyes were shining with tears of his own.

"And I love you, Obi-Wan ," she returned softly. And then, with a laugh that was half a sob of joy, Moirae cast aside the quiet restraint of her nature, and flung herself unashamedly into his arms. She could feel his arms circling tightly around her, and could feel his warm breath against her face as he kissed her again. The kiss was at once both fervent and gentle, conveying to her the same caring passion that he would later, when they found themselves at last alone, together in their own bed chamber, the one she would share now with him.

Moirae smiled at the sweet dream, and stirred, sighing contentedly where she lay against Obi-Wan , feeling the rise and fall of his even breathing, and the steady murmur of his heart. One of his hands covered hers where it rested upon his chest, and the other was entwined in her hair that lay beneath her head in a tumbled mass. Morning sun streamed generously through thewindows, telling her that it was well into late morning. She raised her gaze to his eyes, and found them focused upon her.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan ," she murmured, and smiled sleepily.

"If one could call it 'morning'," Obi-Wan grinned back, lifting a hand and softly tracing the lines of her face with a touch that was softer than the brush of a feather, "We're terribly lazy."

"Mmm," she agreed happily, running her small hand over his smooth chest. "People will think we didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Sleep?" Obi-Wan whispered softly. His arms, warm and protective, tightened around her as his eyes grew soft and dark, "Night, my little flower, is not for sleeping. Not for us."

"Obi-Wan!" she laughed, coyly pushing his arms away as he tried to put them around her, "What of your poor wife? When shall she find her rest, feeble weakling that she is?"

Her gentle teasing only charmed Obi-Wan all the more, and he finally encircled her in his arms and pulled her against him. As their eyes met, Moirae's smile faded, and her flesh shivered warmly.

"From what we shared last night, I have seen for myself that my wife is neither weak, nor feeble," he whispered, the words carrying a meaning that sent traces of pleasure shivering along her skin. "I'm glad you are mine, Moirae," he finished in a warm whisper.

"And I'm glad you are mine," she murmured, pressing her lips against his.

* * *

******Chapter five. **

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	6. Dwelling on the Past

**Chapter six**

I walked silently along the corridors, humming softly as I made my way back to my rooms. The cream-coloured hem of my gown swished softly against the floor, while slippered feet tapped the floor. To my right, someone had left a window open, the chilly wind wrapping itself around me. My concentration snapped, as a memory took centre stage in my mind. I slowed, my mind dwelling on the past.

* * *

_A cold wind stirred through the trees at the edge of the forest, helping, in a small way, to calm my tense nerves as I perched on a low tree branch. One hand clutched a slender limb for support, while the other hefted the familiar, comfortable weight of my bow. The soft wind plucked gently at me, brushing, almost playfully, at my hair, hanging past my shoulders. Two slim braids behind my ears, and one larger braid at the back of my head kept my hair from blowing in front of my eyes as I scanned the treeless plain below._

_Dark, frightening rumours of Bahralt patrols near the borders of our forest had been coming to the ears of Sanya and the Elders with increasing regularity, and I gazed out at the dark, moonlit plain with apprehension. The others had moved on from this place at the edge of the trees, for they had sensed nothing out of place here, but I had chosen to remain behind for a moment. __There seemed to be nothing out of place on the vast greenness before me. I knew I should join the safety of the group, but I also knew that the rebels had learned over the years, how to deceive even the keenest of senses. _

_I sighed at last, shaking my head at my foolishness, and leapt silently to the ground, my boots making not the slightest sound as I lighted on the forest floor. Were rebels here, I reminded myself, I would be at an enormous disadvantage, having wilfully separated myself from my group as I had. I turned and took a step to follow after them. They were not far away, and it would take only a few moments to catch them._

* * *

"My lady?" A clear, musical voice filled with concern broke the spell of my memories. The voice that had been spoken belonged to a young maiden who stood before me, her grass-green eyes gazing at me with worry. She held a silver tray in her hands, laden with a decanter of wine with two glasses beside it. "Are you well, my lady?" She repeated.

I smiled gratefully into her soft, caring eyes. Though it had been more than a hundred years, it seemed as if only days had passed since the tiny, golden haired stranger had been brought through the gates of Sanctus. My family had taken in the child, and she had flourished under the watchful and delighted care of my mother and sister. The name her dying mother had given her, was Clio, joy, and it was well bestowed, for she found delight in everything. To this name, Lindariel had added a name of her own choosing: Mahiel, star; for the gold of her hair shimmered with the light of the stars. It had been a comfort to have her with me as we left for Coruscant, for I could not imagine life without the bright eyed, golden haired girl.

"I am well, Clio," I nodded at last. "I was merely thinking."

Clio sighed a breath of relief, and stepped back. "Master Jinn was looking for you, did you know? He wanted to know if you were available this evening."

I smiled. "Yes, I believe I am free. Tell Master Jinn that I would be delighted to spend the evening with him Clio."

Clio nodded, satisfied, and turned to continue down the corridor .

* * *

_"What did Sanya need to discuss with you then?" Erunna asked curiously._

_"What she wanted wasn't to discuss with me but to decide things for me," I sighed, plopping down on my new bed, "The Elders have also appointed someone called Cristiel to teach me."_

_"What? The Cristiel?" Marijan exclaimed._

_"Who is this Cristiel?" I asked._

_"She's like Sanya's shadow," Erunna explained. "She is a servant of the highest status, one of my mother's favourites. She's like the perfect lady. Her manners are impeccable, she is polite, her wit is sharp and she understands politics well. If that would not be enough, she also excels in all the skills any woman of a noble rank should know, such as bloom arrangement and the sujio ceremony. I think that of all the people in this world, Cristiel is the one closest to Sanya. They are about the same age, and you know all about Sanya's fixation of perfection."_

_"She sounds...formidable."_

_"She is. You'll be facing a hard time Calassë," Marijan said darkly. I groaned._

_"Calassë. You shouldn't get upset about are who you are, and you can't help that. You happen to be second in line to the throne; you'd have to learn this eventually. It's unavoidable," Erunna comforted, patting my shoulder._

_"She's right, Calassë," Marijan echoed. "You'll show them all."_

_"Right. Even if Cristiel is the teacher from Rhachon*, I'll sit and take my lessons like a good girl," I assured. "Honestly, if I slip up in front of all the nobles during a ceremony, I'll die of mortification."_

_Erunna's lips twitched while Marijan chuckled._

* * *

I jumped as the door to the rooms opened and Cybele's head peeped around the door, snapping me out of my daze. Had I reached my rooms already?

"Oh! My lady!" She opened the door fully, sweeping a curtsy, "Begging your pardon, but Master Jinn will be here soon, and your bath has been drawn," she murmured, a sweet smile on her face.

"Yes, of course," I muttered, nodding, "I'll come in now. Thank you."

* * *

******Chapter six. Thanks to Jack Damian for reviewing **Thawing****** and what a loverly review it was!**

*******Rhachon=Hell, Underworld, general bad place where evil people go. Mentioned briefly in **Thawing******.**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	7. Hazy promises

**Chapter seven**

Clio had filled the bath to the brim with hot water scattered with rose petals and scented with oil of roses. She waited patiently outside the door as I washed, then helped with the manicuring of my toes, the filing of my fingernails, and finally the three-rinse washing of my hair.

"If only we had a proper bathhouse," Clio sighed wistfully, "Like the ones in Sanctus or Yean."

"Yes, I know," I said dreamily as she helped me from the bath and wrapped a warmed towel around me. She took my hair, squeezed out the water, and rubbed it gently with red silk before I padded out into the open room, making my way to the bundle of clothes and pair of slippers that waited for me. As soft and silky as I remembered, I mused as I set the soft towel aside and began dressing. The cloth was warm against my skin and I smiled as I stepped into the billowy cloth, and dropped the shift over my shoulders where it settled. I slipped the richly worked slippers onto my feet and wriggled my toes in delight.

"Lady Calassë, those clothes are beautiful," Clio whispered, coming near. "Would I be allowed to fix your hair?"

"Yes, of course," I smiled gently, sitting in the chair. Clio drew out a soft hair brush, and began working it through the tresses of my hair, stroke after stroke, smoothing it until it glistened. I closed my eyes, and began to doze.

* * *

_I watched as a girl fussed with her hair beneath the trees. It was so hot that even the highest mountain peaks were lacking the snow that was usually present year round. She had a small mirror that she was looking in as she attempted in vain to pull her hair up without the aid of a brush. She was easily identifiable as a youngling; she wore the standard youngling attire - a bright blue robe, with a pattern of green grasses around the hem, and a plain, unadorned yellow sash._

_"What are you doing, youngling?" I asked as I walked up and took a seat next to her. She sighed, giving up._

_"I was trying to pull my hair up, kojiko*. It's so hot out here… I was hoping to get it off my neck," she said quietly, leaning her head down on to her knees and pulling the ebony tresses to one side. I looked at her silently for a moment._

_"Sit up," I commanded. She looked at me with curiosity for a moment before following the command. I held my arm out and dug through the billowy sleeve of my robe for a moment. My fingers searched before locating a soft ribbon. I withdrew it, and lowered my arm. "Turn around so I can reach, please."_

_The youngling silently followed my orders, slightly bewildered. _

_My fingers combed and pulled the youngling's hair. I was trying to be gentle and not tug on the ebony locks; it had been quite a while since I'd braided anyone's hair. She sighed suddenly. It was quiet, almost escaping me. Almost._

_"What is it?" I asked. The youngling seemed to stiffen, whereas a moment before she had wilted._

_"I was just wondering where you'd learned to work with hair, kojiko. You seemed to know what you were doing. It reminded me of my mother."_

_"I learned from my sister." I paused. "In the hot summers, when I was small, Lindariel used to get really hot when she would go outside and work in the flower garden. I remember her telling me how to pull her hair back so it would be away from her neck to work. At night, after dinner, she would let me play with it, and I found several styles that looked beautiful on her. This was my favourite." _

_I wound her hair into a bun at the top of her head and tied it with the ribbon in a firm but gentle manner. My hands slid down to rest on her shoulders, though I stared at my creation. I had braided two sections, and left the third unbraided, before braiding all three together as one and wrapping it up in a bun. The bow had tails just long enough that they swept her shoulders delicately._

* * *

"There," Clio said at last. My hair was still loose in unadorned curls, but they shimmered and glowed in a way that only Clio could do. "One more thing and you will be ready."

From the drawer, Clio plucked out a small twist of silk and knotted it carefully around my brow.

"Ah Clio, Clio," I murmured, catching her hand in my own, "What would I do without you?"

Clio hesitantly wrapped her hand around my own as she knelt.

"You would manage, my lady," she said carefully in a low voice, "I am only one of many who will serve you, but Nyx willing, I would serve you forever."

I smiled at her response and nodded gratefully before we both stood.

"I will see to it," I said, "You must stay with me.

"I will, my lady. I promise."

* * *

******Chapter seven.**

*******Kojiko=Going to be honest,I made this word up, but it's probably Japanese for something or other. For the purposes of this story, it will mean 'older student, big sister, upper classman', kinda like a Sempai or Nee-sama in Japan. (Upper-classman, big sister.)**

******Soo, Calassë is a wee bit insecure; can't say I blame her, so many people have left her, so she tries to keep everyone else close. Good thing Qui-Gon is here.**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	8. Know, but don't know

**Chapter eight**

Qui-Gon stepped into Calassë's chambers and made a beeline for her private sitting room. He was running late; something that happened very rarely to the Jedi Knight. He pushed the door open and stared. She had dismissed her women; there was no one to wait on them, they would be quite alone. He almost recoiled at the sight of the empty room; Calassë was never left alone. But she had banished the maids who should wait at the table, she had even dismissed Clio. There was no one to see what she had done to her apartments, nor how she had set the dinner table.

She had swathed the plain wooden furniture in scarves of light cloth in vivid colours. She had even draped scarves from the tapestries to hide the walls, so the room was like a beautifully trimmed tent. She had ordered them to bring in a new table, one as low as a footstool, and had set big cushions at either end, as if they should recline to eat. The dinner was set out on the table at knee level, drawn up to the warmth of the burning logs like some kind of feast. There were candles everywhere and a rich smell of spices hung in the air.

Calassë was wearing a most extraordinary costume. On her head was a twist of the finest silk, turned and knotted like a coronet, with a tail hanging down behind that she had tucked nonchalantly in one side of the headdress, as if she would pull it over her face like a veil. Instead of a proper gown, she wore a simple shift of the finest, lightest silk, smoky blue in colour, so fine that he could almost see through it, to glimpse the paleness of her skin underneath. He could feel his heartbeat thud when he realized she was naked beneath this wisp of silk. Beneath the shift, she was wearing a pair of trousers like a man's, but not quite like a man's, for they were billowy leggings which fell from her slim hips, where they were tied with a drawstring of gold thread, to her feet where they were tied again, leaving her feet half bare in dainty crimson slippers, worked with a gold thread. He looked her up and down, from turban to slippers, and found himself bereft of speech.

"We all wear them at home in the summer," she said. "My parents too. They're more comfortable than robes at times and easier to clean." Qui-Gon nodded. He noticed now a light flowery scent which came from the silk. "And they are cool in the heat of the day," she added.

"They are beautiful." He nearly said barbaric and was glad that he hadn't, when her eyes lit up.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes." At once she raised her arms and twirled again to show him the exotic dress. "You wear them at night?"

She laughed.

"We wear them nearly all the time. My mother always wore them under her armour. They are far more comfortable than anything else, and she could not wear robes or gowns under chain mail. When we received ambassadors, or for great state occasions, or when the court is at feast, we wear gowns and robes, especially at Yuletide when it's cold. But in our own rooms, and always in the summer, we wear Majilah dress. It's easy to make, easy to wash, easy to carry, and best to wear."

"You can't wear it here," Qui-Gon said. "It might give people - it might get stolen."

Calassë raised a brow, but nodded.

"I know. Moirae was against me even bringing them. But I wanted something to remind me of home and I thought I'd keep them secret. Then tonight, I thought I'd show you. Show you myself, and how I used to be."

Calassë stepped to one side and gestured to him that he should come to the table. Qui-Gon felt too big, too clumsy, and on an instinct he stooped, pulled off his boots and stepped onto the rich rugs barefoot. Calassë smiled and beckoned him to sit. He dropped to one of the gold-embroidered cushions. Serenely, she sat opposite him and passed him a bowl of scented water, with a white napkin. Qui-Gon dipped his fingers and wiped them. She smiled and offered him a gold plate laid with food; roasted meat, white bread; but she had made them serve only tiny portions on each individual plate. She had sliced apples served alongside the meat and added some precious spiced meats next to sliced sugared plums. She had done everything she could to serve him an Arryian meal, with all the delicacy and luxury of the Sanctusian taste.

"This is beautiful," Qui-Gon said, seeking a word to describe it. "This is like a picture. You are like-" He could not think of anything that he had ever seen that was like her. Then an image came to him. "You are like a painting I once saw," he said. "A treasure from Iago. Strange, and most lovely."

She blushed at his praise.

"I want you to understand," she said, speaking carefully. "I want you to understand what I am."

"What you are?"

"I am Calassë," she said, picking up a plum, "I am the Princess of Arryn, I may be its Queen. I will be a married woman and a mother. That is my destiny. You know; but you don't know. You don't know about Arryn, you don't know about me. I want to explain myself to you. I want you to know about Arryn. I am a princess of Arryn. I am my father's favourite. When we dine alone, we eat like this. When I lived in Yean, I lived with hundreds of other girls and sat before the fire like this. But we do not live as you live here. We have beautiful gardens, filled with fountains and running water. We have rooms in our palaces, inlaid with precious stones and inscribed with gold letters, telling beautiful truths in poetry. We have bathhouses with hot water, to wash in and thick steam to fill the scented room, we have ice-houses packed in winter with snow from the mountains so fruit and drinks are chilled in summer."

The words were as seductive as the images.

"You make yourself sound so strange," Qui-Gon said slowly.

"I'm only just realizing how strange we are to each other," Calassë said. "I thought that your country would be like mine, but it's very different. Perhaps you thought that I would be like other girls, but I'm quite, quite different."

Qui-Gon nodded, a small smile growing on his lips as he watched Calassë bite into the soft, juicy plum.

_And for that, I give thanks every day._

* * *

******Chapter eight. Oooh, am I the only one who sees Cupid at work here?**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	9. A vision of radiance

**Chapter nine**

"Tell me a story."

I glanced up from my plum at the calm, gentle giant of a Jedi that sat opposite me, a glass of berry juice in his hand.

"I'm sorry?" I questioned. He grinned.

"Tell me a story," he repeated clearly, "You said yourself that you wanted me to understand what you are. Tell me a story of your life on Arryn."

"Oh," I realised, nearly slapping myself for stupidity. I searched my memories, trying to seek a light-hearted and happy one. It wouldn't do to have a depressing story told first. Finally, inspiration struck.

"Are you ready?" I asked, setting into the cushion more comfortably before Qui-Gon nodded, his face as eager as a younglings. His expression made me frown as a quick bolt of pain jolted at my temples...

_A young boy smiled shyly as my gaze rested on him...His hair was a golden brown colour, like warm polished wood...He ran a hand to run along the line of his smooth jaw..._

"Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked curiously. I nodded and smiled.

"An idle thought," I answered, drawing my knees up to my chin, "I'll tell you the story of my sister's engagement ball. I was talking with Lindariel, thrilled that I was going to my first ball, but upset that she was engaged..."

* * *

_"Look at you! Getting married before me! You'll leave me alone and the court will follow you! I'll be eclipsed forever!" Calassë exclaimed dramatically, circling her sister in awe as her eyes wandered over Lindariel's appearance._

_"Hardly," the elder Princess laughed, while Calassë fiddled with her unruly curls. "You'll be just as important when your engagement is announced."_

_Calassë's nose wrinkled, her violet eyes lit with disbelief. __A knock at the door broke their conversation, and Lindariel, ever the poised and polite heir called out, "Enter."_

_The door opened to reveal a small boy, only about thirty years old, with red hair and wide onyx eyes. _

_"Your Grace, the guests are starting to arrive," he reported, "And their Majesties are in the ballroom already."_

_"Thank you," Lindariel smiled, waving the boy away, and was once more left in peace with her sister. __"Come," she encouraged, rising from her chair, "We have to go. It's our duty as princesses."_

_Moving toward the door, they exited the private bedchamber and were instantly greeted with the sound of noisy conversation intermixed with the harmony of the string quartet always present for balls. __A hush fell over the crowd, however, when Lindariel appeared, and the musicians played the slow tune that announced her presence. Everyone agreed, the eldest Princess was a vision of radiance tonight._

_She wore a dark robe with lacquered threads and embroidery in silver. The design was of silver birds flying against a night sky, with a mysterious landscape of dark trees and rocks rising up from the hem. Her golden hair had been swept into a bun at the nape of her neck, ornamented with a semi-circular comb in a showy red colour and adorned with bright flowers in gold. __But the most unexpected reaction of all came when the final guest for the evening appeared, and everyone turned to see the Princess Calassë making her first entrance at a royal ball - and she not even two hundred! __She was dressed simply beside her sister, in a soft pink robe with tiny white flowers embroidered rising from the hem of the robe and from her sleeves. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back in loose curls, while her eyes, the mysterious violet of the royal family, were bright and eager, peeped from her face innocently. Moving across the floor gracefully, everyone turned to watch as the Princesses took their places beside the King and Queen._

_"Well done, little brook," Lindariel whispered in her ear, and Calassë couldn't help but smile brightly at the praise. _

_"Good evening, Your Grace," a male voice called, and Lindariel's fingers tightened around Calassë's fingers as she turned._

_"Do you require something,my lord Calanon?" she replied, her tone polite and demure, while her words held an uncharacteristic bite to them._

_"Is it not appropriate for a man to greet his future bride?" he replied smoothly._

_"Not when it is unwelcome." Lindariel turned, and for the first time, Calassë was able to lay her eyes on her sister's betrothed; who was standing before them dressed in an elegant robe, his brown hair falling in elegant waves around his face, his sky-blue eyes regarding everything about him with acute awareness. He smirked._

_"You are unhappy," Calanon stated simply after gazing at her for a few moments, and Lindariel blinked in surprise at his forwardness, turning her eyes away from the instrumentalists. _

_"I suppose the idea of marrying a stranger is not my first choice," she replied silkily. He laughed._

_"Indeed, putting it that way doesn't sound very appealing to me either. However, I hope to know you much better before we are married."_

_At that comment, Lindariel couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling up in her chest, causing Calanon to smile. __The sound of music suddenly caught the air, and the young man looked at her with purpose in his eyes, bowing low as he held out a hand. _

_"Would it be rude for me to request your first dance as a lady of the court?"_

_Lindariel smiled. He had a way of making her laugh in a very childlike way, Calassë noticed. _

_"As my future husband, I think it is only too appropriate," she replied, giving him her hand as he whirled her onto the floor, leading the other dancers in the second waltz of the evening. _

_All eyes were on the young couple as they moved about the floor, and Calassë was surrounded by comments about how graceful they were, how beautifully the Princess smiled and laughed, and how handsome her partner was. Calassë __looked at her sister, at her smiling face and elegant figure. She noted the way her body oozed elegance down to the very pores in her skin, watching as her lips curved upward in a seductively beautiful smile, her head cocking from side to side as her body moved. In all honesty, she looked like a swan...a delicate, but perfectly sculpted swan. And then she knew._

* * *

"Lindariel was always able to put on her courtier's face, even when we were young. She always acted so mature for her age, and often tried to teach me to be polite and proper when in public."

I eyed Qui-Gon out of the corner of my eye.

"What I saw that was most definitely her courtier's façade. She was no happier about that marriage then I was."

* * *

******Chapter nine. I apologise for the delay; I've been fairly distracted this Christmas! Sorry!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	10. Proposition

**Chapter ten**

When Qui-Gon awoke later that night, Calassë was not curled up on her cushions. He sat up, stretching as he pushed himself to his feet, and followed the pull of her Force signature, eventually finding her in the gardens that she loved so much, sitting and watching the little stream flow.

"Calassë?" he questioned, trying to keep his voice quiet.

"Hmm?" she murmured, lifting her head from the warm curve of her palm and glanced up at his face where he stood before her upon the grass. She tilted her head as his eyes gazed down into hers. Qui-Gon returned a smile, squeezing her shoulder gently as he sat down beside her.

"Did you have unpleasant dreams?" he asked quietly. She shrugged silently.

"The stars are darkening," she answered, with a nod at the sky. Turning, Qui-Gon saw that it was true. The stars were not so bright as before, as if a veil had been drawn across them.

"Something is going to happen," she sighed, as his hands slid to her shoulders, and rested there. Her hands lifted and brushed across his own absent-mindedly, as she leaned against him, his chest warm against her back, his jaw pressed against her hair.

* * *

The narrow hall was dark, shadowed and cold. No torches burned in the brackets on the walls. A hush had fallen over the corridors, and as she moved quietly along, a thin thread of a smile touched her lips as she paused at a polished mirror, and admired herself within its reflective surface. Her gown was a deep green, almost black, with a train that swept silently behind her, her sleeves long and open, exposing her smooth white hands.

Her eyes trailed upward over herself, over the slender curves of her form that had pleasured more than a few men in her life. She smirked, remembering one of them, a door watchmen she had had her eye on for a long while; a married man who had felt such guilt over having given in to her, that he had hung himself. She shrugged the thought away. He was of no consequence. He hadn't been very memorable, anyway.

She admired her smooth, waist length hair and her face, as exquisite as polished stone. She gave herself one last admiring glance, then turned and continued to glide down the silent hall.

* * *

Qui-Gon sat down and closed his eyes, seeking guidance from the Force. He was at a loss to explain Calassë's statement last night – and a little hurt that she didn't tell him what she meant. He'd tried to meditate and clear his mind, but he'd never been inclined toward meditation, and his lack of practise came to taunt him now.

When he closed his eyes, his mind took him to that peaceful moment in Calassë's bedroom, when she had slept so sweetly in his arms after Master Zhan had argued with her.* He hadn't wished to disturb her, and he merely sat and watched her as she slept. Only moments later, he'd wanted to taste her, caress her, and kissed her. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he went to open it.

"Master Yoda," he greeted as the Jedi Master hobbled in, his ancient eyes skewering Qui-Gon.

"Troubled you are, Master Qui-Gon."

"Yes," he replied simply. It wasn't like he could hide it.

"Some matters, the most complex thing they appear to be, yet the answer most simple." Yoda speared Qui-Gon with another look as Qui-Gon nodded. "But this matter, now not one I wish to discuss. Calassë's Force sensitivity, discussing it the Council has. Train her, the Council wishes to."

"You mean…Calassë will be trained as a Jedi?" Qui-Gon said slowly.

"If agree does she. Talents for healing she possesses. Wish her to be trained, you do?"

"Who would train her? If she agrees, of course."

"Train her, you will."

"Me?"

"So surprised you should not be," Yoda smiled. "Special she is – sensed her abilities I did when first I met her, but much turmoil she had. Ready she now is. In agreement are you?"

"Of course," Qui-Gon said, bowing, "Thank you."

* * *

******Chapter ten. Evil witch from **Thawing****** has returned! **

******* reference to chapter 24 in** Thawing.

**Again**,****** I apologise for the delay; I've exams coming up, so I've been brushing up on Shakespeare. To be, or not to be...wait, wrong play. Dang. Please review!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	11. Patience

**Chapter eleven**

I smiled, pleased at a nearly finished tapestry, studying the eyes of the fiery haired maiden who smiled at her companion, her eyes green and shimmering, her lips curling up in a smile of surprised pleasure. In her hands, she held a bouquet of perfect pink tulips. Beside her stood a tall, strong man with strawberry-blonde hair and a neat beard; his grey eyes full of fierce protectiveness, yet still retaining a gentle quality to them as he gazed at the copper-haired maiden beside him.

I smiled at the couple upon the tapestry; obviously, it was Moirae and Obi-Wan. I hoped it would be finished soon, for Autumn was nearing, and I wanted it to be finished in time for Moirae's birthday. About the room, my ladies wove and chattered, the mood bright. In one corner, Korin sat playing a harp, while Cybele accompanied her on a flute. A stirring in the doorway pulled me from my thoughts, and turned all the ladies' heads. The music faltered for a minute at the tall, solid form of a man, Qui-Gon, who entered the room with obvious hesitation, and a face filled with apology. His eyes found mine and his face brightened into a grin as he strode across the room.

"Master Jinn," I greeted, hopping to my feet and sweeping a curtsy.

"How is your tapestry coming, my lady?" he asked. The face of the tapestry was turned so that the Jedi could not see it, but he moved as if to step around me, and look.

"Don't go any closer!" I scolded, poking him. "That tapestry is for Moirae's birthday."

"Ah, but I've seen it already," he teased, moving as if he wished to step around me and view the nearly finished work.

"But not now, that it's nearly done," I replied, pretending exasperation. "Come tell me what you've invaded our sanctuary for."

The music resumed, and the ladies continued their work, the hum of the room returning as Qui-Gon grinned. "I wish to discuss a matter most private. Would we be able to continue this discussion elsewhere?"

I felt a grin teasing at the corners of my mouth.

"As you wish," I agreed, leading him out of the bright room to the private sitting room where Obi-Wan and I had had our little 'chat'. Entering the room, I seated myself eagerly upon a chair, almost twitching with impatience for Qui-Gon to impart his information.

"So, Qui-Gon?" I asked, "What is this oh-so-urgent matter?"

Leisurely, the Jedi sat, apparently amused by my impatience.

"I spoke with Master Yoda yesterday," he began calmly, "He had an idea concerning you."

"Yes?" I was fond of Qui-Gon, I really was, but by Nyx, did he irritate me with his deliberate teasing!

"He was wondering if perhaps you would be interested in learning the Jedi arts."

I stilled. Out of all the things I'd expected, _this _was not what I had imagined.

"What?" I asked in a hushed voice, "You can't be serious!"

"I am."

"Now, you shall have to teach me all you know, my friend." I announced excitedly, clasping my hands together. "Now even Master Yoda agrees that I am to be taught. No longer can you deny it, Qui-Gon."

"I cannot deny it," he agreed readily. "I have never been able to deny you anything, Calassë. You know this."

I laughed, and his grin widened as I jumped forward to embrace him, throwing my arms around his neck as she had so many times before. His own arms went around my waist, and he drew me close for a moment.

"Now, Calassë," he said cheerfully, drawing back, "I'll let you get back to your weaving."

* * *

"Good, Calassë!" Qui-Gon praised, stepping back after having disarmed me for the fifth time that morning.

"What do you mean, _good_?" I moaned, cradling my stinging hand. Moments before, Qui-Gon had deftly clipped the lightsabre from my hand, spinning it away into the bushes of the glade where we practised. I glanced down, seeing a bright spot of red on the tip of my thumb. Qui-Gon had inadvertently burned me, though it was only tiny, and I knew it had not been what he intended. He would be mortified if he knew what he had done, so I clenched my fingers around my wounded thumb, hiding it within my fist.

"You have disarmed me every time we've practised, ever since we started a few days ago," I continued. "And I know you're not using full strength against me." Of course, I admitted to myself, he was exerting himself more than he had that first day. I could tell by the swift rise and fall of his chest beneath the cloth of his cream-coloured tunic.

"You have improved much since my arrival the day before yesterday." Qui-Gon countered patiently. "That is what matters."

He deactivated his lightsabre, spinning it with graceful finesse as he re-sheathed it in his belt.

"Ha!" The laugh burst out of my throat a little more forcefully than I had intended, and I turned quickly away, making an effort to seek out my lost 'sabre instead of allowing myself to become distracted by Qui-Gon's every move. Of course, even turned away from him, I could still see in my mind's eye, the grace of motion that was his as he instructed and demonstrated various moves and tactics with his lightsabre. Perhaps I wouldn't have been disarmed so quickly, I reprimanded myself, if I'd an eye for Qui-Gon's technique, rather than for Qui-Gon, himself.

"What?" he asked to my back, "You do not think so?"

"It will take me centuries, Qui-Gon, before I can even hope to rival your patience," I muttered, pretending to glance about in the bushes for my 'sabre, though I was always aware of him near my back. "You have been doing this your whole life. And I-,"

"You are a quick learner." Qui-Gon cut in swiftly, and I turned to see him standing near, his arms casually folded as he watched me. "Though you _could_ improve your concentration."

I straightened, and turned toward him, feeling a warm flush rising to my cheeks. "What do you mean by that?" Had he guessed that most of my concentration was focused on something other than the skills he was trying to teach me?

"Well," Qui-Gon's grin widened as he rubbed his jaw with a finger, "first of all, your lightsabre flew over there," he chuckled softly and pointed over his shoulder across the clearing, "not there." He nodded at the bushes I had been absently searching through.

"Oh."

I could feel a warm red blush creeping over my face now. Without looking at him, I crossed the clearing, immediately finding the shining haft of the weapon sticking up through the plaited branches of a low, leafy bush and drew it out, hefting its weight in my hand before I replaced it in the pouch on my belt. I did not immediately turn back to face him, though, and instead glanced down at my still fisted hand. Seeing the playful grin on Qui-Gon's face made me wonder if he had somehow guessed why it was difficult for me to concentrate, and was amused.

"Calassë?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice suddenly sober. "Did I upset you?"

"No," I replied, glancing up at him. "I was just thinking about something."

"What about?"

"About-," a smirk spread itself across my face, "how very young you are."

"_Young_?" Qui-Gon choked, though his grin had returned once again to his face.

"Well, yes!" I spouted defensively as my smirk grew. "You are more than one hundred and seventy-nine years younger than me!"

"Ha! As if age should matter!" In two strides Qui-Gon reached me, and without giving me time to protest, he had caught me by the waist in both his hands, and lifted me easily up into the air as if I weighed nothing at all.

"No no no, Qui-Gon! Don't even think about it! You'll drop me!" I screeched, "Put me down, you giant oaf!"

Qui-Gon however, ignored me, and threw me lightly up into the air, laughing as I shrieked in protest, and catching me easily again as I came down. He tossed me, screaming and protesting a few more times, until his eyes caught the spot of red upon my hand where he had nicked me. I had forgotten to keep my thumb hidden.

"Calassë," he said, his voice growing instantly serious as he set me down. "What is this?"

Breathless, I glanced at my thumb, still sore, while the burn was covered in a sheen of pink. With immeasurable gentleness, Qui-Gon cradled my hand within his own, and ran a finger lightly along my wrist as eyes laden with concern lifted to mine.

"I did this?"

"Qui-Gon, it's nothing. It barely hurts," I assured him.

"Still-" The concern did not leave his eyes. "Come here," he ordered, taking me by my uninjured hand, and leading me toward the tiny brook. Here Qui-Gon knelt, drawing me down beside him. He dipped his cupped hand down into the cold, clear water, and smoothed his wetted fingers across my palm, soaking the dry burn, and soothing it. Then he drew his sleeve across my palm and my fingers, drying away the remnants of water until there was no sign of injury, but for the tip of my thumb where the wound was already beginning to close over.

"See?" I said. "It's fine."

Qui-Gon's eyes still were heavy with concern as they lifted, almost like a child's they were, seeking forgiveness. I had to smile at his expression, so wise and ageless, yet so child like.

* * *

******Chapter eleven. **

******Yay, here it is. Please review, they are much appreciated!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	12. The Council Requests

**Chapter twelve**

"My lady?" Clio demanded softly, tapping lightly on the screen. "There are people here to see you."

"Really?" I asked wearily, pausing in the middle of removing my new cream-coloured tunic that marked me as a learner of the Jedi arts, to glance at Clio's figure on the other side of the screen. "Can they not come back another time? I was about to get into the bath."

"I know, my lady, and I'm sorry, but they were most insistent."

"Fine," I groaned, pulling my tunic back on, "I'll be out in a minute."

* * *

"How can I help you, Masters?" I asked politely, gesturing them to sit, while Clio placed a tray with several glasses and a tall jug of juice upon the table.

"A letter has arrived for you," Master Windu said lightly, "From Arryn. We were concerned when we could not open it; since your disappearance several years ago, the Council naturally fears for your well-being."

"I see," I replied, beckoning for Cybele to come closer, "Could I see this letter?"

With a nod from Yoda, Windu drew the letter from his sleeve, handing it to Cybele who closed her eyes for a moment, while the envelope glowed a faint blue colour.

"It is from an ally, my lady," she replied, handing the letter to me.

"Thank you," I mumbled, opening the letter easily before glancing up at the four Jedi in the room with me, "Would you mind if I read this quickly?"

"Of course," Yoda croaked, "Anxious you must be, for news."

I nodded, then lowered my eyes to the roll of parchment in my hands.

"_Princess_," the letter began as I ran my fingers lightly over the surface of the crisp yellow parchment that bore the bold yet graceful characters, "_As I write this to you, I am sitting near the summit of the highest peak of Ironpine. The sun rises as I put pen to paper, setting the world beneath my ledge, in bright relief_."

I smiled at the image the words conjured.

"_Beneath this windy mountainside the green of the forest melts away toward the south, giving me a clear view to the distant horizon. The cold autumn air above the treetops is sharp and clear, and I can see the distant black peak of Bahralt, swathed in shadow, towering above the trees that spread about its base. The sight is eerie and sobering, but for the distant, almost invisible light of hope I see that sparkles brightly in the south-west. It is only a touch of colour at the point where earth meets sky. But I know that it is the bright sheen which is our army, and I am comforted to know that this war is nearly over. It is almost as if I can see our country as it once was; I can still see your face clearly, your sad eyes and your hopeful smile when I said farewell to you that spring morning, and turned my back on my princess. It has been nearly three years since that day. I hope you are not angry with me, and I pray that this letter is enough_."

"Almost enough, dear one," I muttered to myself.

"_Within my hand, I hold the keys to your family's triumph_. _Soon, my lady, our Autumn festival will be upon us once again, and my wish to see you at home is greater than it has ever been. We all pray of seeing you here soon, garlanded with a crown of red autumn leaves, dancing beneath our trees, and bringing light to the shadows of this place. The war is won; the legions of Bahralt cannot withstand us any more. Your presence here would give all of us even greater reason to celebrate our victory. I hope that you come swiftly, though if circumstances prevent you from coming later then you'd like, we will understand. I remain your humble servant, Raina._"

I furrowed my brow at the letter, my thoughts whirling within my mind. But no sooner had my eyes turned away from the parchment, than my attention was grasped by something else; the curious eyes of the Jedi watching me. I swallowed, tucking the letter into my pocket.

"A letter from an old friend," I said, my voice airy, as I plucked a grape from the bowl on the table, "Some small battles have been won. She hopes to see me again, if she can spare the time. But it is of little consequence. What else did you wish to speak of?"

The Jedi all exchanged a look, before turning their gaze back at me.

"We have a request," Qui-Gon said carefully, "The senator of Naboo was nearly assassinated this morning, and her apartments have been wired with traps that one of her colleagues found after her arrival. She is not safe where she is."

"I see..." I trailed off, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing, "And I suppose you wish for her to stay here until this threat is dealt with?"

"Exactly, our point," Yoda piped in, "Protected she needs to be. Agree to this you do?"

"I see no problem with it," I agreed, "She will be welcome here."

"Good," Master Windu said, standing, "She'll be here in two hours. May the force be with you."

"And with you," I nodded, bowing.

* * *

******Chapter twelve. **

******Please review, they are much appreciated!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	13. Enter, Senator Amidala

**Chapter thirteen**

Padmé Amidala rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, which was stiff and tense with the stress of the day. And it wasn't even over yet, she groaned inwardly; that had only been the morning's dosage it seemed. Now she was being escorted to her new quarters, which she was sharing with someone she didn't even know, someone who was being protected by the Jedi order as she was.

"Ah, Senator Amidala," Qui-Gon called in a warm voice, from where he stood at the end of the corridor. His hands were hidden in his sleeves, appearing as ever, the strong Jedi Master he was, as Padmé drew to a halt before him. "You have come safe, in spite of our worries," he continued as Padmé smiled, and offered a bow, following in Qui-Gon's wake at his shoulder.

"It's good to see you again, Master Jinn," Padmé offered delicately.

"And you, Senator," Qui-Gon sighed somberly, shaking his head slightly, his jaw set. "I wish it could have been under more...pleasant circumstances."

Padmé drew in a low sigh at the Jedi's words as the two passed beneath the warm lights of the lamps perched above them. _  
_

"The princess is looking forward to seeing you," Qui-Gon said conversationally, as the pair reached a row of steps that led into the youngling's garden.

"And I am looking forward to meeting her," Padmé replied. Qui-Gon paused a moment, a step ahead of Padmé, and glanced back at him, a humoured light dancing in his eyes before he sighed thoughtfully at some idle idea in his mind, his lips drawing up in a thoughtful smile before he glanced once again at Padmé a step behind him.

"Come," he murmured warmly, resting a hand on the young Senator's shoulder, and drawing her up beside him as they continued. After a while, he drew to a stop, and glanced forward, Padmé following his gaze as they looked over a flower-strewn glen, where the warm morning sunlight streamed down through the branches above their heads and danced across the glade where a soft breeze fanned the high grasses as a group of younglings were singing or laughing as they played at their childish games, or chased the dancing light across the grass.

Aside from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, now a Jedi Master, was the only male present, seated not far from them. A fiery-haired woman sat beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, her eyes gazing dreamily over the cantering younglings as Obi-Wan's arm circled about her, his hand resting in a protective gesture upon her stomach. There was something different about him, something grand and ethereal, which Padmé could not place. But then- Padmé recalled the news that had come to Naboo before her departure for Coruscant; Obi-Wan was newly married. At this, Padmé smirked to herself, and dismissed the thought.

At the far edge of the bright clearing, where a soft shadow swathed the grass, sat a young woman Padmé did not recognize. She cradled a small youngling of no greater than three years upon her lap, his downy drowsing head resting upon her shoulder. She was seated delicately upon a tree root as fair and as light as a bird, her eyes sparking with amusement as she watched the antics of the younglings before her. Just now, a small boy was hurrying near, half hopping in his haste as he offered her an amusing attempt at a bow, and lay a small bouquet of flowers upon her knees. She smiled and thanked him, accepting his gift, and the boy blushed, scampering away to his friends. She glanced up then, and at Qui-Gon's appearance, her gaze alighted with joyful welcome.

"Qui-Gon," the girl breathed warmly, laying the youngling down on the grass as she rose from her seat, to come forward and embrace him, her fair head tucking against his shoulder for a moment before she drew back, and smiled up at him.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan called out as he rose, his hand gently drawing up his lady beside him as well. His wife smiled in welcome as she stood, and Padmé did not miss the subtle brush of her hand across her yet narrow stomach.

"This is my wife, Moirae," Obi-Wan introduced, as his wife grinned merrily at Padmé. "Moirae, this is Senator Padmé Amidala."

"A pleasure," Moirae assured her, smiling a gentle, secretive smile before she turned and called gently, "My lady?"

The golden-haired girl lifted her head from Qui-Gon's shoulder and glanced in their direction. Padmé's eyes shot open in sudden surprise, as the girl carefully detached herself from Qui-Gon's arms, her eyes unmoving from Padmé's. She came forward at a slow pace brushing lightly through the grass, her eyes fixed upon no other but Padmé, as if she were entranced.

"Here is the Senator, my lady," Moirae cooed softly, drawing near her as the princess came near.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you," Padmé murmured. She offered the princess a small bow, and stepped softly toward her, smiling into her startling eyes that watched her, unwavering, unblinking. The girl sighed at this, came a step closer to her, and breathed in a light, airy voice, "Hello Padmé. It has been a long time, has it not?"

* * *

******Chapter thirteen. Ooh, Calassë knows Padmé? HOW?! We'll find out soon!**

******Please review, they are much appreciated!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	14. Old Souls

**Chapter fourteen**

_She **knows** me_? Padmé wondered to herself. _But how?_

Beside the young princess, Moirae gave a soft gasp and traded a look of surprise with her husband. Moirae cleared her throat softly.

"You know the Senator, my lady?" she murmured in quiet surprise. "I do not understand-"

"Little Padmé," The princess muttered again, at which they all fell silent. Within the glade, the young ones continued to laugh and sing and canter about, yet in Padmé's ears, their sound grew faded and muted as she gazed long into the princess's eyes. She reached out, and clasped her hand, pale and slender beneath the grip of her own tanned fingers. Padmé glanced into her face, her eyes focused upon her wide gaze. Why was this woman speaking her name as if she were known to her, and dear in her heart? How could she have ever known her?

A soft, muffled sob caught in her throat as the girl looked upon their clasped hands. Uncertainly, Padmé moved to pull back before the princess lunged forward suddenly, and threw her arms about her neck. With startled eyes, Padmé shot a glance at Moirae over her mistress's shoulder, but Moirae merely smiled and nodded as if in approval.

"I lost you," the other girl sobbed, her face pressed softly against her neck, her tears damp against Padmé's flesh. And Padmé found herself circling her own arms about her waist, and holding her tightly, as well. "I have been searching, for so very long. My little Nimwen." She drew back to look up, gazing long into her eyes, her own shining brightly with tears. "At last, after so much despair, I have found you," she whispered in a voice that only Padmé could hear.

And then, once again, she buried her face against her neck, and sighed, a soft contented sigh. Padmé's previous surprise at the sudden embrace softly faded away, and she felt somehow at home with this strange girl. A strange familiarity within her moved through her blood as she held her, a new sensation, sweeter and more ethereal than the compassion and the pity he also felt, woven through it, as the threads of a bright tapestry. Yet Padmé had only begun to wonder at what it might portend, when she pushed back suddenly to look up into his eyes, her cheeks wet with tears.

"How long has it been?" she asked raggedly. "You have suffered much, little Nimwen. But upon my honour, you will suffer no more. Now I will protect you properly. As I cared for you, long ago when you were small," she murmured, her words broken with the remnants of her tears, "How strange a thing it is, and yet how comforting, also."

"I-I'm sorry, my lady, but I don't understand," Padmé said gently, saddened that such nonsensical ramblings would spill so blithely from her lips. "Have we met?"

Several tears fell from the girl's lashes to her cheeks at this, and she shook her head, her face written with sorrow.

"Not in your lifetime, but you are easy to remember. Your face I saw, as through a deep fog. All of Yean, all that I loved, is as faded as a dream." she sighed with a shudder, and her brow furrowed tightly. A short breath caught painfully in her lungs, and she sniffed as more tears trickled from her eyes. "Nothing is as it once was."

"You need not cry," Qui-Gon soothed gently, and Padmé smiled as a warm urge of tender affection for this lost maiden stole over her heart. So natural a thing it seemed to him, that she did not care that she had not met her before this moment. "I shall bring you to your room, my lady."

A shuddering sigh broke past her lips at these words, and a new light of bright hope entered her eyes. She sniffed, and looked into Padmé's eyes, studying the contours of her face with a keen gaze.

Her eyes were violet, Padmé noted, a deep, fathomless colour. Like wood-violets, but warmer, and brighter.

"Very well, Qui-Gon," she murmured, her brow twitching slightly, as the Jedi Master wrapped an arm around her carefully; as though she were made of glass, and led her away.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, well, _any_ of this," Padmé said exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in annoyance. Obi-Wan traded yet another quick glance with his wife who offered him a slender smile, and a soft nod.

"Very well," Moirae murmured, as a smile came to the soft curve of her mouth, "Have you ever heard the term 'Old Souls', Senator Amidala?"

* * *

******Chapter fourteen. So, THAT'S how Calassë knows Padmé! Intriguing!**

******Please review, they are much appreciated! Many thanks to **Equoise****** for reviewing!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	15. No shame

**Chapter fifteen**

The steady glow of the lamp within a sconce upon the wall touched off the small stone carving I held in one hand, the figures of a man and maiden, standing together.

The carven lady stood with her back to her lover though she was half turning to him in a gesture of concerned devotion as her hand covered his own where it rested upon her shoulder. Her other hand was twined within his beside them, their fingers woven together. Her face was partially lifted to his, his own bending downward toward hers, the pair frozen eternally, never to share the tender kiss they both longed for.

_Oh, Adan._

Fluidly, I replaced the carven image upon the bedside table, and straightened again where I sat upon the edge of the wide bed.

Such dark thoughts, I chided myself. Though our relationship in this life had been cut short so cruelly, Adan was now enjoying the bountiful joys of the Blessed Realm, now. That was what mattered. But would I ever lay eyes upon the Blessed Realm, and upon those I loved who dwelt there? Would Nyx ever forgive my willfulness?

With this thought, I drew in and released a trembling sigh at the deep and heavy weariness that lay upon my heart, and I shivered, my thin sleeping gown not enough to keep out the chill that laced itself through my blood as a strange memory, my own, and yet, not, took hold of my mind...

* * *

_"You are still alive then," he said, in a low, resigned voice, and slowly sat again, upon the curving trunk. "Never to come seeking my arms again." He shook his head, and lowered his eyes, eyes that were swollen with misery. "I had thought I made the right choice." My heart wrenched at the desolate tone in his words and tears sprung to my eyes as he continued, his words all the more bitter, "But each beat of your heart drives all reason from my mind, and all joy out of my heart, Calassë."_

_"Adan-" I gasped, a ragged sob catching in my throat. The dark look of hopelessness in his eyes filled me with a sense of Adan's misery, thick and impenetrable..._

_"I promised you we would return to Sanctus together. And now, that promise will not find fulfilment! I have broken my vow! I have destroyed you!" He sobbed as I watched him through eyes heavy with my own misery. How terrible a thing it was, to watch one who had always been so strong and stalwart in my eyes, to break and crumble as completely as Adan was breaking now..._

_He snatched my hands in a vice-like grip, "Has another healed the wounds I caused in your heart? Has another given you cause to laugh merrily again? Has another held your soft hands as I once did? Has another kissed your sweet lips the way I used to?"..._

_"Save your tears, Calassë," Adan grated through trembling lips, his own tears speckling his cheeks as he jerked away, "I do not wish to see them shed by anyone to whom I meant nothing," he finished with a look of sickened disgust upon his face, "No more than any of your other men."_

* * *

A wild scream, full of terror and grief brought me thrashing awake from weary dreams. The book I had been reading before I had dozed off again, fell with a thump to the floor. The sound of wild grief filled weeping followed swiftly upon the frightened cry. And I scrambled to my feet, stumbling through the darkness of the room and down the curved corridor that led into a small room, Padmé's room, where beyond the door, the weeping, wild and fraught with grief, continued, unabated.

"Padmé!" I cried, bursting through the door, tumbling in my haste to my knees beside the bed where the Senator thrashed wildly from one side to the other. Her thin nightgown was knotted about her bare, slender legs, and her bedclothes rumpled and twisted about her as she sobbed in her dreams.

"Padmé, wake up!" I cried, catching her by her shoulders. The damp of her cold sweat moistened my hands, even through the cloth of her sleeping gown as I jostled her. And at last, her weeping weakened, and her eyes opened.

"Oh," she breathed, glancing down at herself, at her sweat moistened nightdress, and the knotted sheets twisted and tortured about beneath her.

"It was a dream," she gasped, clutching her knotted blanket against herself, and turning her eyes to mine, deep and pleading as she studied my face.

"Padmé, you are safe," I sighed, "You are safe."

"I am...safe," she repeated, her brow furrowing, "But the legions-"

I stifled a breath. Was it _possible_ she was beginning to remember? Old souls were just that - souls that had withstood the test of time, being reborn into different bodies, living different lives. However, Old Souls had one particular detail that made them special; some of them could remember lessons they had learned from their previous lives. They could remember certain places or people. But most importantly, some of them could remember their past lives. A wakened Old Soul was very rare. No-one pretended to understand the magic that brought some souls back again and again, reincarnating them in new bodies. Letting them remember all their past lifetimes, making them smarter and more clearheaded every time they were born.

"They will not hurt you."

"They will not hurt me," Padmé echoed, as her dark head sagged upon my shoulder. She sighed.

"Calassë," she muttered, her grief muted and low. "I died, didn't I?"

I nodded mutely, my brow furrowing.

"Dûrion," I murmured, "We believed he loved you and once you thought that you loved him, and could never be happy if you could not possess him. He never loved anyone. What desires he possessed were lustful and vile. I denied him you, and my family and my people paid the price for my foolishness. I wish I could change all of this."

Padmé's head lifted, and her weeping, reddened eyes focused upon me.

"But Nim - _Padmé_," I soothed. "Do not think that I wish you to be any other than who you are. One in whose veins flows noble blood. I can see the light of Lothriel in your eyes, and the strength of Faelon in your face...And I am glad of what I see, for by it, you are _you_. And that is all I wish for you to be. No more or less."

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice fraught with a vein of consternation as she released him, and drew back, falling wearily against her pillows, "I shouldn't be this fearful..."

"There's no shame in tears, for you've been through much pain," I returned. "You are stronger than I can know."

* * *

******Chapter fifteen. Intrigue! I'll be showing a very painful scene of how Padmé/Nimwen died, and also how Adan died too in a few chapters, when Qui-Gon gets curious. I'll have Padmé and Calassë get on fantastically, because now ********Padmé will be more or less the same physical age as our little Arryian, and will be able to have proper convos with her! Woot!**

**Please review, they are much appreciated! Many thanks to **Equoise** for reviewing AGAIN! Merci, mon Ange!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	16. Instinct

**Chapter sixteen**

"Why couldn't we see this attack on the Senator?" Mace Windu asked, pacing the darkened room in frustration, his lips pursed in annoyance.

"Masking the future, is this disturbance in the Force," Yoda said, his olive-coloured eyes solemn and wise as he meditated. Windu slowed, then stopped altogether as he pieced just what Yoda was saying.

"The prophecy is coming true," Windu said slowly, "The Dark Side is growing."

Yoda nodded. "And only those who have turned to the Dark Side can sense the possibilities of the future," he replied, "Only going through the Dark Side can we see."

"It's been ten years, and the Sith still have no shown themselves." Windu dropped into a seat, almost wearily. "Do you think they are behind this?"

"...Out there, they are. A certainty that is," Yoda said slowly, his wrinkled brow pinched with worry.

* * *

Qui-Gon stood in the sitting room, watching the twinkling lights that made up the many, many lights of Coruscant. He was in a light meditative state; calm, was peaceful, save the sound of his own breaths. Soft footsteps were heard in the corridor, before the door slid open and Obi-Wan entered, yawning. Qui-Gon smiled at his former apprentice.

"Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way. Any activity up here?" Obi-Wan questioned

"Quiet as a tomb," Qui-Gon confirmed, "I don't like just waiting here for something to happen."

Obi-Wan nodded, and pulled a palm-sized view scanner out of his belt. He could see R2 stationed by the door in Padmé's room, but couldn't see the Senator herself.

"What's going on?" Qui-Gon questioned, joining the other Jedi. His face took on an equally puzzled expression as his friend's.

"She covered that camera. I don't think she likes anyone watching her," Calassë said as she entered the room, tying the sash of her robe as she went. Qui-Gon nodded at her. Obi-Wan, however...

"What is she thinking?" Obi-Wan fumed.

"She programmed Artoo to warn us if there's an intruder," Calassë reasoned, curling up on the sofa and plucking a ripe apple from the bowl. "Nothing can get past that little droid."

"It's not an intruder I'm worried about," Obi-Wan replied tersely, "There are many other ways to kill a Senator."

"I know, but you also want to catch this assassin, don't you?" Calassë countered. Obi-Wan froze, then turned slowly to face the young princess, incredulous.

"You're using her as **bait**?" he ground out.

"It was Padmé's idea," Qui-Gon sad neutrally, "No harm will come to her."

"Besides, I can sense everything going on in that room," Calassë piped up, taking a bite of the juicy green fruit in her hand, "Padmé is sound asleep."

"It's too risky," Obi-Wan fussed, "and your senses aren't that attuned, young _apprentice_."

"And yours _are_, Master Kenobi?" Calassë said coolly, her amethyst eyes as cold as the gem. Obi-Wan considered the notion for a brief moment.

"Possibly."

Calassë's lip curled.

"Huh."

* * *

Even as they spoke, the subject of their discussion slept soundly, curled up under the warm sheets as faint strips of light filtered through the blinds covering the windows, dimly outlining the slumbering Senator.

Outside, a probe droid approached silently, hovering just outside her window. Clicking quietly, several small arms unfolded from the bot and fastened themselves to the window, creating small, almost invisible sparks that shut down the security system. A larger arm unfolded from the bot's side and began to quietly cut through the glass, making a small, scratching sound as the droid pulled the cut section away from the rest of the window. The sound caused Artoo to wake up, and his lights activated. The probe droid froze.

Glancing around and spotting nothing, Artoo beeped, then shut down again. Silently, the probe droid attached a little tube to the window. Two long, sickly-white Kouhuns slithered out of the tube, crawling through the blinds and landed with a liquidy thump on the carpet.

* * *

"You look tired," Qui-Gon observed as Calassë rubbed at her eyes. She smiled faintly at him.

"I don't sleep well any more," she replied quietly, setting the half-eaten apple on the table before her as she hugged her knees.

"Because of those dreams?" Obi-Wan asked, shrugging as Qui-Gon glanced at him inquiringly. "Moirae was telling me. She's worried."

"I know," Calassë said tiredly, "But I don't know why I keep dreaming about, well,what I'm dreaming about. It happened a long time ago."

"Dreams pass in time," Obi-Wan offered.

"I'd rather dream of the old days in Yean," she retorted, sinking into the plush cushions, "Just being around Padmé is soothing."

"Mind your thoughts, they betray you. You've made a commitment to the Jedi order... a commitment not easily broken."

"I also made a commitment to my country!" Calassë snapped, "Decades before came to this Temple! I believe the Jedi commitment can be broken quite easily, Master Kenobi!"

"Don't forget she's not the child you knew any more. She's a politician. They're not to be trusted!" Obi-Wan steam-rolled on.

"She's not like the others in the Senate," Qui-Gon interjected.

"It's been my experience that Senators are only focused on pleasing those who fund their campaigns... and they are more than willing to forget the niceties of democracy to get those funds!"

"Not another lecture, Obi-Wan. Not on the economics of politics...It's too early in the morning..." Calassë groaned, holding a hand to her forehead, "And besides, you're generalising-"

Calassë's mouth snapped shut as she scrambled up, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan two steps ahead of her as they drew their lightsabres before bursting into her bedroom. Two ugly, sickly-white centipede-type creatures were mere inches from Padmé's face, their mouths open and wicked forked tongues flickering out. They hissed as the two Jedi burst in, and Calassë arrived just in time to see Qui-Gon throwing himself in front of her, slicing the deadly creatures in half with his lightsaber. Obi-Wan's gaze darted to the window, and without any warning, he raced straight at it, crashing through the blinds as he soared through the window and flung himself at a floating dorid as it flew away, with the Jedi hanging on for dear life, a hundred stories above the city.

Calassë darted towards the bed, flinging a shawl over Padmé's shoulders as Qui-Gon kicked the severed creatures into a corner.

"Stay here!" Qui-Gon snapped, darting from the room as Captain Typho, two guards, and Clio entered.

* * *

******Chapter sixteen. Close call there! Yes, ths scene is taken from the movie, but everything will make sense soon. (hopefully!)**

******Please review, they are much appreciated! Many thanks to **Equoise****** for reviewing AGAIN! Merci, mon Ange! This chapter's for you!**

******Also, please check out my facebook: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	17. An almanac

**Chapter seventeen**

Obi-Wan watched as the morning sun slowly brightened the bedroom despite the curtains hung over the window. He would have preferred to have the sunlight streaming into the bedroom, but he didn't want to disturb Moirae. He smiled softly as he looked down at his wife, her head resting on his chest as she slept. Obi-Wan was happy to see her sleeping, her expression peaceful. She had been more stressed than usual for the past two weeks. It frustrated him that he was unable to help her, but this was her battle to fight. All he could do was support and encourage her. Sleep was one of the few times she seemed perfectly relaxed and he was content to hold her while she slept, relishing the feel of her warm skin against his. He ran his fingers through her hair slowly, inhaling the scent of vanilla and something that was uniquely _Moirae_, that clung to her.

Moirae sighed softly as she felt Obi-Wan's fingertips drift slowly across her bare back, causing her to snuggle closer to him.

"Morning," she mumbled against his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

"Good morning," he replied, kissing her hair softly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she answered, looking up at him. She felt her stomach drop as she looked into his deep, grey eyes. "How about you?"

"I slept well; someone exhausted me last night," he said cheekily.

Moirae laughed, swatting at his arm slightly. "You've been spending far too much time around the Padawans."

"Surprisingly, I heard _that_ one from Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan replied, his chest shaking slightly with laughter. "But I did not mean to offend you, fair Moirae," he said pompously, rubbing his thumb against her cheek gently.

_How is he real? _

Moirae resisted the urge to close her eyes and lean into his gentle touch, to spend the entire day in bed with him. "It's alright, I wasn't offended," she cooed.

"You wait here; I'll fetch some breakfast," he said, kissing her deeply before lifting her off his chest.

"You don't have to do that Obi-Wan; I can get my own breakfast," Moirae said, wrapping herself in a bed sheet as she sat up.

"I don't mind, my love," Obi-Wan replied, smiling at her as he pulled on his clothes. "I shall return soon."

Moirae felt her skin flush as she watched Obi-Wan walk out of the room, the muscles down his back flexing under his lightly tanned skin. She flopped onto the bed, a huge smile stretching across her face.

"Ye Gods, he's perfect," she said to herself.

* * *

Moirae tapped a finger against her book, sighing in annoyance. She knew she was forgetting something, something important but she couldn't remember what it was. It was rare that something crucial slipped her mind, so to say she was a little annoyed at her memory lapse was an understatement. She pushed away from the desk set up in the corner of her bedroom, getting up to pace. The bed looked too big without Obi-Wan. The thought of sleeping in it alone, even if it was only for one night, made her feel a bit lonely. _  
_

She flopped down on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to scream in frustration. She knew whatever she was forgetting was staring her in the face; she just couldn't see it. Moirae glanced at her desk, her eyes scanning the objects littered across its surface: books, quills, blank sheets of parchment, ink pots, her almanac-

_The almanac!_

Moirae darted over to the desk, her book landing with a thump on the floor. She double-checked the date as she began to count the days off on her fingers, frowning as she counted again. A bubble of panic was settling into her chest. After counting for the fourth time she dropped onto the floor, her knees shaking. Her mind froze for a moment before going into overdrive, panic taking over. She picked herself up off the floor shakily, quickly darting to the door and nearly crying with relief when she found Cybele walking towards her along the corridor.

"Cybele. Do you remember when you said I could ask you for anything? I need your help," Moirae said, her voice shaking slightly.

* * *

******Chapter seventeen. Ooh, I was waiting for this one for AGES! ********For those who don't know, an almanac is the old word for calendar. ********Please review, they are much appreciated! Many thanks to **Equoise****** for reviewing AGAIN! Merci, mon Ange! **

******Also, please check out my facebook: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	18. It's blue

**Chapter eighteen**

"What's important is that you remember not to panic," Cybele said, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. "We don't know anything yet."

"Moirae, if you don't stop pacing you're going to make yourself dizzy," Clio said from her spot against the wall. The women had convened in her bedroom; in a male dominated area, it was important for the women to stick together.

"Besides, you're stressing yourself," I murmured, "Just relax."

"I'm not stressed," Moirae said absently, staring at the bottle on her desk.

_How can something so small hold so much power over people?_

"I see," Cybele said sarcastically. "So you're always this pale?"

"It's time," I said quietly.

"Whatever happens everything is going to be alright," Clio said quickly.

The walk from the bed to her desk seemed like three miles instead of ten feet as the sound of her heart pounding drowned out everything else. Her hands shook as she picked up the test. This test, this little jar of liquid, was going to drastically change her life in one way or another. She looked down at her hand, the edges of her vision shimmering slightly.

"It's blue," she said faintly.

"She's going down," Clio said frantically, gripping Moirae's upper arms as she began to sway dangerously to one side. Moirae sat numbly in the chair Cybele had pulled out, her heart racing.

"Moirae, just take deep breaths; everything is going to be fine," I said, rubbing her back. Moirae took several deep breaths, trying to calm her rising panic.

"I-it's positive," she said, her eyes widening. "I'm pregnant. Oh Nyx, I'm _pregnant_; what am I going to do? How's Obi going to react!"

"For what it's worth, I think Kenobi would take it well," Cybele said.

"He loves children; you've seen him with the younglings. I think he might be excited about it actually," Clio interjected.

"Clio's right," I said, nodding.

"How are we going raise a child though?" Moirae asked, rubbing her forehead. "He's always fighting, carrying out missions. How will we manage to take care of a child?"

"I think you should take a step back and focus on telling him you're pregnant," Cybele suggested tartly.

"Oh Nyx, _how_ am I going to tell Obi?" Moirae groaned. _  
_

* * *

Moirae jumped as she heard the door close behind her, distracting her from her pacing. She had been wearing a path in the floor since Cybele, Calassë and Clio left her to sort out her thoughts, after they were sure she wouldn't have a heart attack. She spent the entire time trying to figure out what the best way to tell Obi-Wan about her pregnancy, but didn't manage to come up with anything. The only thing her thinking managed to accomplish was making her more and more worried about his _reaction_.

Moirae wasn't even sure how she felt. She was definitely unsettled; she hadn't planned on having kids yet, not for a few more years and yet there was one growing in her. She was nervous about how Obi-Wan would react; could a Jedi faint? But there was a part of her that was excited. The thought that she was having a baby, her and Obi-Wan's baby, caused her heart to flutter in happiness. But it didn't dwarf her fear. Her biggest fear was Obi-Wan _not _wanting the baby; she didn't know what she would do then.

"Good evening Moirae," Obi-Wan said, smiling brightly as he approached her.

"Hello Obi. Busy day?" Moirae asked, relaxing slightly as her husband wrapped his arms around her. She placed her head against his chest, closing her eyes as she listened to his steady heartbeat, a stark contrast to her racing heart.

"Quite busy, but I'm glad I was able to return," he replied.

"I would have missed you," she said, hugging him tightly.

"Moirae, are you alright?" Obi-Wan asked, tilting her face up. "You seem worried."

"I'm not sure," Moirae said softly.

"Shall I fetch a healer?" he asked worriedly, loosening his grip on her in case she agreed.

"No, no," Moirae replied. "Obi, I…I have something I need to tell you." Moirae gently pulled his arms from around her, turning away to face the darkened windows. She felt the worry and panic well up, her stomach twisting into knots. She could feel herself shaking slightly, but could not quell the slight tremors. Obi-Wan frowned as Moirae moved away from him, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He moved to stand in front of her, holding her face gently in his hands.

"What's wrong Moirae?" he asked softly, looking into her eyes.

"Obi, you love me right?" Moirae asked, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Of course I do," Obi-Wan replied, his confusion building. "I love you more than anything."

"Obi..." Moirae paused, unsure if she could force the words out. She gazed into his pearly eyes, filled with love and confusion, and took a deep breath. "Obi, I'm pregnant."

* * *

**Chapter eighteen. This one is for **Equoise**, a total Obi-Wan/Moirae lover! Hope this made you happy, mon ange!**

**Also, please check out my facebook: **www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	19. Sweet as Fruit

**Chapter nineteen**

"Obi, I'm pregnant."

Obi-Wan felt as if his heart stopped as Moirae's words reached his ears, his eyes widening. He couldn't have heard her properly, truly he could not have. Perhaps he misunderstood her words; it had happened on more than one occasion when he did not understand what she was telling him; Arryian words and phrases often confused him.

"What?" Obi-Wan asked quietly, his hands still holding her face gently.

"I'm pregnant Obi. I'm going to have a baby; _we're_ going to have a baby," Moirae replied, watching him closely as she tried to gauge his reaction. _  
_

"You're carrying my child?" he whispered, looking down as one hand dropped away from her face to rest against her stomach. Moirae nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Obi. I never meant for any of this to happen. I don't know what happened, I mean I know what happened but I don't know what happened for me to get pregnant; I don't know what went wrong."

"Why are you apologising?" Obi-Wan asked, his brow furrowing as he saw her tear-filled eyes. "Do you not want this child?" he asked worriedly.

"No, of course I do!" Moirae exclaimed, her eyes widening at his implication. "But aren't you angry with me?"

"Why should I angry?" Obi-Wan asked in confusion. He dropped to his knees in front of her, worrying Moirae momentarily that he had fainted, before he placed his hands on her hips, his forehead resting against her stomach. "You honour me, my love; honour me beyond measure. You have given me the greatest gift a man can ever receive. You bear my child within you. How could I be angry with you? A child made with the woman I love is a most wonderful blessing. I am not angry love; I am overjoyed." He pressed a kiss to her stomach before rising to his feet, kissing her slowly.

"So we're having a baby together?" Moirae asked, a small smile on her face as some of her worries vanished.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, a huge smile stretching across his face.

"How are we going to raise this baby?" Moirae wondered aloud. "With you going back and forth on missions and me going to Arryn-"

"We'll worry about all of those things later," Obi-Wan said, interrupting her rant. "Tonight, we celebrate." Obi-Wan quickly swept Moirae into his arms, carrying her into the main sitting room, even as she insisted she could walk.

* * *

Everyone sat around the spacious sitting room, each person absorbed in their own task: Calassë and Padmé sitting by the window, a book on Padmé's lap as they talked, Qui-Gon and Clio sitting across from each other murmuring in Arryian quietly, Cybele sitting on the arm of a chair, twirling an arrow she was supposed to be cleaning between her fingers, and Yoda seated a little ways away from Padmé, his olive eyes closed as he meditated.

"Friends," Obi-Wan said loudly, drawing their attention. "Moirea and I have wondrous news to share with you all. Moirae and I are expecting a baby!"

The room fell silent as everyone stared at Moirae and Obi-Wan, shock clear on the men's faces while the women smiled knowingly. After a moment of silence the room erupted in cheers, everyone rushing forward to congratulate the couple as Obi-Wan set Moirae on her feet. Obi-Wan smiled happily at Moirae, kissing her hand. He thought he would never grow tired of watching the blush that filled her cheeks, the pink tinge complementing her creamy skin. He glanced up to see Calassë crooking a finger at him.

"Excuse me for a moment my love," he said to Moirae, detaching himself from the group as Yoda offered his congratulations. "Yes, Calassë?" Obi-Wan asked, standing next to her at the window. "What do you need?"

"It's not me," she said quietly, "You need fruit."

"Fruit," Obi-Wan said slowly, confused by her statement.

"Yes, on Arryn, it is tradition for a man to feed a woman fruit when she announces she is with child," she explained. "When a woman announces that she's pregnant, the father feeds her fruit so that the child's life is sweet."

"I see," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his chin, "Though I doubt you'll be able to obtain fruit due to the lateness of the hour."

"Oh, that's no problem. Here," she grinned, turning to reveal she held a large platter of fruit in her hands. Obi-Wan shook his head in amusement, pulling the platter toward him as he sat on the couch next to Moirae. Moirae looked at him with curious eyes, wondering what he was up to.

"On Arryn, there is a tradition, I believe. When a woman announces that she is with child, the father feeds her fruit so that the child's life is as sweet as the fruit the mother eats. Would you allow me to continue this tradition with you?" Obi-Wan asked her, his bright eyes focused on her emerald ones.

"I would love to," Moirae replied with a smile.

Everyone watched as Obi-Wan began feeding Moirae before they returned to their chatter, sneaking fruit off the tray. Moirae shifted slightly, her head finding a more comfortable position on his arm. Obi-Wan ran his fingers through her hair slowly, his mind wandering. Would their child have auburn hair like hers or would it be fair like his? Would they have grey eyes like his or bright green ones like hers?

He wondered.

* * *

******Chapter nineteen. This one is for **Equoise**, a total Obirae lover who just reviewed! Here you go, mon Ange!**

******Also, please check out my facebook: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	20. Poor timing

**Chapter twenty**

My hand shook as I ended the video com to Raina. The timing couldn't have been worse. _Why now, of all times? If this had come a week later..__._

"Your thoughts are dark," Qui-Gon said and I jumped as he swept into the room, two glasses in his hands. Were my thoughts _that_ easy to read? "And no, in case you're wondering , I cannot read people's minds. It's more like I can pick up on the emotion of your thoughts."

I shook my head. "It's nothing Qui-Gon, just something small," I said, taking a glass from him and sipping the luminous blue liquid. "But the timing could have been much better."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not right now," I said dismissively, taking another sip. "What brings you here?"

Qui-Gon's brow quirked.

"I believe you promised me a story," he said, "and I feel it my duty to inform you that-" he grinned impishly "-you owe me a week's worth."

"Ye gods, you're just like the younglings, Qui," I snorted. "I don't know what to do with you."

"Naturally," Qui-Gon replied smugly, evidently choosing to let the diminution of his name pass. "But your debt still stands."

"Alright, alright," I giggled, shifting closer to the Jedi and sitting beside him. "Let me see..."

* * *

_Calanon shifted in his saddle, waiting for all the men and women of the court to arrive ready to leave. He hated all this pomp and ceremony, but decorum insisted upon it, and if he was to be king one day, he had to get used to it._

_The sound of a familiar laugh wafted into the courtyard, and a few moments later Calanon saw Lindariel appear, surrounded by a throng of people. She was wearing a lovely riding gown, which in Calanon's eyes, made her beauty outside Nyx herself. The colours of her gown wre brilliant: a skirt of dark blue and an underskirt of sharper turquoise, the skirts flaring from the high belt tied tight under her ribcage. Her billowing sleeves were trimmed with the most beautiful embroidery in gold thread, and as she lifted the hem of her skirt to avoid tripping, he was able to see a pair of scarlet slippers encasing her dainty feet. She seemed to shine above the rest of them; an ethereal being of grace, loveliness and purity._

_"Here my lady, let me help you," he heard a page say._

_"That's alright, I can mount my own horse." And she did just that, pulling herself up so that she sat sidesaddle atop a beautiful grey mare. It was then that Calanon noticed the bow and arrows on her back, and he allowed his jaw to drop in surprise. Surely she didn't intend to participate in the hunt?_

_"Are we ready to go?" she called out cheerily, again wearing that mask of charm that so perfectly hid her true feelings._

_"Wait!" A small voice cried, and everyone turned to see Calassë, proudly sporting a bow and arrows running toward them. Calanon nearly growled._

_"What are you doing here youngling?" he called out, and Calassë smiled as though she had been given her birthday presents early._

_"I'm coming on the hunt," she announced proudly, and everyone around her chuckled._

_"You're too young to ride a horse," Calanon replied, rolling his eyes indulgently._

_""I'm not going to be riding my own horse," Calassë replied, "She's got a lame leg."_

_Calanon laughed, turning around._

_"And how are you going to travel, youngling? On foot?"_

_"No," Calassë moved over to where her sister sat, "Lindariel said she would take me."_

_"Lindariel?" he stammered slightly. "You mean Lady Lindariel, surely?"_

_"She is my sister, she insists I call her Lndariel, and yes, I'm going to ride with her."_

_Unable to say anything to that, Calanon just watched for a moment as the young woman hoisted her sister into her lap._

_"Fine," he finally commented to himself and then, in a louder voice, "Let's go!"_

_The caravan started out, and Lindariel instantly found herself surrounded. In the beginning, Calassë had thought the hunt would be boring, but now she understood that, until they found their prey, they could talk all they wanted._

_"This is so much fun!" Calassë called out at one point, bouncing happily in the saddle, and Lindariel laughed._

_"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, little brook," she said merrily. Suddenly a horn sounded, and everyone stopped moving. Someone had spotted a deer. The King was off faster then anyone else, though the rest of the party followed quickly, the ladies in the back and the men in front, preparing their arrows. Lindariel quickly surpassed everyone so that, before long, she was alongside her betrothed. He shot her a glare, but she ignored it..._

* * *

"Rest, Calassë," Qui-Gon interrupted. "You're exhausted."

"I'm not," I protested, although I was, in fact, exhausted. Those bright eyes surveyed me once more.

"Then will you try to sleep?" Qui-Gon said, his fingers now rubbing at the base of my skull. Strong, skilled fingers, I noted irrelevantly, hissing out a breath when he reached a huge knot of tension on my neck.

"Don't stop," I said when he paused, and then blushed. "Please, a neck-rub has helped me unwind before."

The fingers resumed their task once more and I breathed steadily in and out, feeling my eyelids grow heavy. Qui-Gon gathered up my hair and draped it over my shoulder then resumed his task. The firm kneading slowed to a gentle pressure, becoming dangerously close to a caress. Startled, I pulled away before I could enjoy the soft touch too much.

"Many thanks," I said around a yawn, wondering just what the devil was wrong with my stomach. A touch on my shoulder jolted me out of my little reverie and I found a handsome bearded face only inches from my own.

"Calassë?" Qui-Gon said gently, as if soothing a nervous animal.

"Sorry," I apologized, surprised by the yawn that escaped me. "I'm more tired than I thought."

"Or were willing to admit," he pointed out accurately. Qui-Gon smiled at me before getting up and extending a hand to pull me up also. "Well…" he said and then paused.

"Well…" I echoed. Since when had I ever felt awkward around Qui-Gon? Thankfully, said Jedi broke the silence.

"Good night, Calassë," he said softly, dipping his head and pressing an almost bashful kiss to my cheek before leaving the room quietly - as my heart started dancing.

* * *

**Chapter twenty. Many thanks to **Equoise **who reviewed! Merci, mon Ange!**

**Also, please check out my facebook: **www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	21. Going undercover

**Chapter twenty-one**

"I do not like this idea of hiding," Padmé fumed as she stormed back into the room, looking mutinous, "I didn't work for over a year in opposition to the Military Creation Act only to run away and hide while its outcome is being decided."

"Don't worry. Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, it won't take them long to find that bounty hunter," I soothed, setting a bag out on her bed. Padmé glanced at the simple cloth bag.

"That isn't mine," she said simply, gesturing at her polished blue cases.

"I know," I replied, "You're going undercover. You need to hide every trace of Padmé Amidala until you are safe."

She rolled her eyes then got up and made her way into her wardrobe where she angrily sorted through her clothes with muffled curses. I rolled my own eyes.

"Padmé; I understand how you feel, I really do; but please understand the Council's position. I'd hate for these assassins to succeed through carelessness."

Padmé's eyes softened and her movements lost some of their jerkiness.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I'm not angry at you or the Council. I'm angry at …"

"I know," I said softly, before grinning, "But you can blame it on Obi-Wan."

Padmé smiled, and then she sighed.

"At any other time, I would really be looking forward to this trip," she said as she folded a long simple dress into her bag. "Have you been to Naboo?" I shook my head, looking away from her as she continued. "Naboo is very beautiful," she said, "and the lake country is one of the loveliest spots."

"I look forward to seeing it," I replied vaguely. Padmé smiled then released his hand to push one more dress into the bag.

"Done!" she announced, zipping the large bag shut. "When are we leaving, can I ask?"

"Before dawn," I answered, running a hand through my hair absent-mindedly "So I'd suggest you retire earlier then usual tonight."

"I'm not a youngling!" Padmé snorted. I glanced at her then, a soft sadness creeping its way through my veins.

"No, you're not," I replied softly, "Not now, at any rate. But the journey will be long, and you may not get a chance to sleep for quite some time. Please, Padmé " I pleaded, holding up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest, "Humour me?"

She closed her mouth and nodded, seeming to pick up on my mood. I stood, and brushed out my skirts, refusing to look at her before I swiftly went to the door.

"I'll see you tonight," I muttered, before making my way to my own room.

* * *

"Clio, could you come here?" I murmured to my little maid, watching with a heavy heart as she beamed at me and practically scampered to my side, her eyes bright and eager.

"Yes,milady?" she questioned, "What is it?"

I shied away from my task. _Coward_.

"Could you brush my hair?" I asked instead, holding up the ivory-handled brush, "I'm feeling a tad stressed this evening. And you do it so well. It calms me."

"Of course, my lady!" she chirruped, taking the brush from me and combing through my hair with sure, gentle strokes. My eyes closed, my chin resting on my hands as I listened to Clio humming softly, and felt the gentle pull of the brush through my hair. I slowly opened my eyes to look up at Clio's reflection. She was smiling to herself as she worked, expertly twisting locks of hair into a soft plait.

Poor Clio. It would hurt her greatly when she discovered just where I'd disappeared to tomorrow morning. I wished I could bring her with me, I really did...but she was needed here, to help Moirae during her pregnancy, and to be my eyes and ears on the Council. Normally, I would have entrusted that job to Cybele, but she was coming with me.

"My lady, are you alright?" Clio asked at last, keeping her eyes on her work, "You seem very tired."

"Ah, I am, yes," I answered tiredly, yawning, "It's been a trying day."

"Perhaps you should have a nap, my lady?" she suggested, "Maybe I could bring up some warm broth so you could sleep undisturbed for a good many hours?"

"No, no," I waved a hand languidly, "It's quite alright Clio. If I wake up and am hungry, I'll get something to eat myself. Don't trouble yourself."

"Oh, but it's no trouble at all,my lady."

I lifted my head and looked at Clio's bright, honest face. I tried to begin a smile, and somehow I could not. I held out my hand and gave a little sigh.

"Oh, Clio," I said. "You know, you and I are the same - only two girls; just two girls. There's no difference between us."

Uncertainty and fear in her eyes, Clio caught my hand, kneeling beside me.

"No my lady, we're not," she said softly, and though her voice was quiet, her words were clear. "I'm a lady in waiting, a servant, an underling. You are a princess. You are nobody's servant."

I sighed and glanced out the window at the bright, afternoon sun.

"I am Clio," I murmured, "You'll see one day. We're both the same. You'll see."

* * *

******Chapter twenty-one. Many thanks to **Equoise **who reviewed! Merci, mon Ange!**

******Also, please check out my facebook: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	22. En route

**Chapter twenty-two**

The air was cool, still holding onto the chill of the night, the hum of transport vehicles endless, like any other day on Coruscant. But this day was different from any other, I reminded myself as I made my way slowly down the steps to join those who would be her companions. Padmé, Qui-Gon, and Cybele were waiting by the docking bay. I smiled as I approached, seeing Padmé struggling to hide her yawns. Evidently, she didn't get enough sleep.

"Good morning," Qui-Gon said politely, his eyes twinkling at me mischievously.

"Good morning, Master Jinn," I replied cheerfully.

"You look-" he began, then stopped mid-sentence and frowned as if thinking, strenuously, of what to say.

"Like a peddler?" Padmé offered sarcastically. I scowled, but could not completely disagree when I glanced down at myself, clad in a long, dark brown dress of roughly-spun wool, and plain flat shoes on my feet. My hair was bound and plaited in one long rope, and then wrapped into a bun.

"Like the real thing," Qui-Gon finished softly. I blushed.

"Very good, all arrived have you," came a familiar voice from behind Qui-Gon. All eyes turned to see Yoda approaching, Master Windu, Obi-Wan and Moirae a half step behind him, drawing nearer to the assembled group. "Prepared, I hope, for this journey you are?"

Everyone nodded, and Moirae strode forward, grasping my hands in hers.

"Be safe, my lady," she murmured, her usually playful gaze solemn. I nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Moirae," I whispered back, "Take good care of Clio...I couldn't bring her with me."

"She'll be safe with me and my fat stomach," she replied, gesturing at her still slim hips. We laughed, and I embraced my faithful handmaiden and friend. Silently, she started to weep

"Moirae?" I whispered, "What's-"

"It's nothing, just the hormones," she joked weakly, "But I worry about you."

I glanced at Qui-Gon, where he stood in coversation with Windu and Obi-Wan.

"Then our Jedi protector will have to prove how strong he is," I replied lightly, causing a watery smile to form on her lips. We embraced one last time before I felt a poke on my ankle. Glancing down, I saw Master Yoda looking up at me, his face impassive. Uncertainly, I crouched down to his eye level.

"Be careful you must," he said, cutting straight to the point, "Your future, I cannot see. Shrouded it is, by the Dark Side."

I bit my lip and nodded.

"Yes Master."

"Attract not attention, if help it you can," he continued, "Come back in one piece, you must."

I grinned, and nodded.

"Yes master," I repeated, then, impishly planted a quick kiss on his forehead before standing and following Padmé, Cybele and Qui-Gon to the Starfreighter.

* * *

I wrapped my rough brown cloak around the now sleeping Padmé, as my gaze wandered over the assorted humans, aliens and droids.

"Hey, you – no droids at the counter!" someone yelled at a little R-unit droid. The droid tootled defiantly and withdrew, but not before blowing an electronic raspberry at the server.

I giggled quietly, pulling Padmé's head into my lap. Softly, I touched her chocolate-coloured curls with gentle fingers, winding them around my fingers like rings, as I lost myself in my memories. I looked up with a start as Qui-Gon approached with two bowls in his hands and the same droid from earlier holding a third in tiny clawed hands.

"It's not very appetizing," he said, "but it's hot. Is she asleep?"

"Just a few minutes ago," I said softly, unwinding my hands from her curls and taking one of the bowls. "I didn't want to wake her."

Qui-Gon nodded, spooning up the bland soup. I sniffed the contents of my bowl and nearly retched. The Jedi opposite me merely raised a brow.

"Come on," he said, finishing up his portion of mush then nodding at my bowl.

Taking the hint, I pinched my nose shut and forced herself to eat the unappetizing soup. I managed to get several mouthfuls down before my stomach rebelled. shook my head, setting the bowl to one side and winding my fingers in Padmé's hair again. Qui-Gon finished the second bowl – was he a bottomless pit or what – then shifted.

"You look happy," he commented. "Wupiupi* for your thoughts?"

I smiled wistfully,my mind far away in the past.

"I used to do this for her, you know," I said absently. "Nimwen, when we were both at Yean."

"I see," Qui-Gon replied softly, looking closely at me then smiling. He tucked a curl behind Padmé's ear and wrapped an arm around my waist, as I leaned into him.

"I used to sit like this when Nimwen took her afternoon nap," I murmured, "She would rest her head in my lap and I would plait her hair while she slept. She had hair of bronze and copper and chocolate, al the colours of brown in one curl. She was such a pretty child. She had that shining innocence of children. And I was a young girl. I used to pretend to myself that she was my baby, and that I was married, happily married to a man who loved me."

_A man who loved me...Simply for me. A marriage of love, not political gain. My chance for that is long gone; dead, with my family...and little Nimwen...and Adan._

* * *

******Chapter twenty-two. Many thanks to **Equoise **who reviewed! Merci, mon Ange!**

***Wupiupi= Tatooine currency**

******Also, please check out my facebook: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	23. An Unexpected Meeting

**Chapter twenty-three**

He was sleeping in an open glade, and glanced upward, blinking his eyes at the night sky, the twilit surroundings swimming slowly into focus. Above him, the trees were too thick to see the sky, in all but one spot where a single star shone through, gazing gently down upon him, as with a mother's gentle gaze.

"Ah, Qui-Gon. You are here at last. I have been hoping you would arrive soon."

The voice across from him was polite and familiar, and he sat up quickly, casting aside the thick cloak that had remained tucked about him and studied the young man, seated not far from him, his back against a tree. He brushed a hand through his now short hair, pushing back the few strands that fell in front of his face.

"Hungry?" he asked, offering a broken corner from a wafer of bread. Qui-Gon realized then, that he was famished, and took it gratefully.

"Thank you." Qui-Gon muttered as he chewed on the slightly sweet bread. He swallowed, letting the warmth of the small morsels fill his empty stomach.

"Think not on it," Adan said with a slight smile, his eyes reminding Qui-Gon, strangely, of Calassë's when she was faced with an unpleasant task.

"Is there a reason I am here, Adan?" he asked quietly. Adan smiled softly, and nodded, although slowly.

"I wanted to talk about Calassë," he replied, eating a piece of bread himself. Qui-Gon frowned.

"I must admit, that for a time, my heart-" he gulped softly, and his smile quavered, "was pained. But as time passed, I realized that-" he sighed, running a hand through his brown curls. "I was far too harsh to her. She didn't deserve that."

Qui-Gon barely managed to keep himself from snorting in disgust.

"I am far too fickle and childish to ever be the husband of one such as Calassë," he finished.

"Hmm," Qui-Gon said vaguely.

"Calassë loves being happy, and to laugh. It would be unfair to her if I continued to harbour such anger to one so innocent." He glanced at Qui-Gon. "I am pleased to see that the one who has won her heart, is worthy of it." Adan smiled, though sadly. "I had suspected it was you then, who possessed her love, though even you did not yet fully know it. You deserve her more than I did."

"You know, she remembers only pieces of what happened," Qui-Gon said quietly, making Adan wince.

"I am sorry if I hurt her," he replied, just as quietly. "My words were foolish, but I have healed, slowly. I can only hope she does too."

"And have you found-" he hesitated, "another?"

"No," Adan shook his head, and glanced away, his honeyed eyes shadowed. "My thoughts keep me occupied." He looked back at the Jedi quickly, and smiled. "But do not think it is because my heart is still fixed upon Calassë. I still love her, truly. But I know now that nothing more will come of it."

"Well, one day, perhaps sooner than you realize, you will find someone who returns your love as you desire, Adan." As he spoke, Qui-Gon's eyes strayed from him to a group who stood not far away. A dark-haired maiden was among them, as if conversing with them quietly, though her eyes were on Adan. "Perhaps she is nearer than you realize," he said, almost to himself.

Adan sighed and looked down.

"Perhaps," he said softly, his eyes moved as if he intended to look in the dark maiden's direction, but then his gaze pulled back to Qui-Gon.

* * *

"He's sleeping like a baby," Padmé giggled, stretching out a hand towards his face, "I wonder if-"

"Don't even _think_ about it," I hissed, slapping her hand softly, "He's been awake for hours, let him sleep."

"Fine," Padmé pouted, rubbing her hand as she yawned again. I rolled my eyes.

"Honestly, you're acting very strangely," I scolded, "What have you eaten?"

"Nothing!"

"Youngling, by all that is holy-"

"Fine! I just had a little of a pink drink."

"Pink drink - oh Nyx," I groaned, remembering seeing her sipping at something an hour or so ago. At the time, I had assumed it to be water, but I was clearly wrong. "What did it taste like?"

"Like _puicca_, and sweetcake."

"Oh Nyx."

Unknowingly, Padmé had just had one of the most alcoholic beverages in the Inner Rim. It was often mistaken for a berry juice I particularly liked, but the alcohol levels were off the chart. It _would_ happen when Qui-Gon took a nap. I paused.

"_Puicca_?" I repeated, glancing at the pink-cheeked Senator, "Where did you hear that word? Tell the truth."

"I'was goin' to!" Oh dear, her words were slurring. "I don' know...mmfh...just was in m'head. Wassit meeean?"

"It means berry in Arryian," I said, hushing her. I paused, murmuring softly, "You used to love berries."

"M'really?" Padmé slurred quietly, snuggling down into my lap again. I nodded, my fingers beginning to braid her hair.

"You loved going to pick them," I murmured, "More often then not, you would eat most of them and get the juice all over your face and hands, not to mention your clothes. And you always got a poor stomach afterwards. But you still loved them."

A soft snore answered me and I glanced down to see Padmé asleep again. Chuckling, I continued braiding her hair, pretending for the moment that I was back in Yean, with friends around me, my family still alive...and a young man who loved me, lounging beside me, an arm around my waist as he whispered sweet words in my ear.

* * *

**Chapter twenty-three. Many thanks to **Equoise **who reviewed! Merci, mon Ange!**

**Also, please check out my facebook: **www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	24. Soothing

**Chapter twenty-four**

"Wake up Padmé," I murmured in her ear, shaking her shoulder as Qui-Gon gathered up the bags, "The ship's stopped."

"Mmf," she mumbled, rubbing a hand across her face, "Mouth...dry."

"That would be the alcohol," Qui-Gon muttered. I shot a grin at him before looking back at the hungover woman in front of me.

"Mmf...where's 'Bele?" she mumbled.

"Cybele got out on Naboo," I replied, hauling her up, "She's drawing any potentials to her and away from you."

"Oh," she groaned, then paused. "Hang on," she mumbled, "Aren't we on Naboo?"

"No," Qui-Gon answered, scooping up the tiny Senator easily, causing her to squeal, "We're on Tannab, but only briefly. We need another ship."

"How are you going to manage that?" I whispered as I scurried beside him, "It costs money and you only have-"

"I know," he replied, hushing me with a wave of his hand, "But I have a plan."

"Oh?" I asked curiously, not liking the look in his eyes.

* * *

_One of these days, I'm going to kill that Jedi._

I watched with angry eyes as Qui-Gon – in the guise of a spacer named Rhykin – showed his hand with a smirk. Outraged yells rang through the seedy diner as he scooped up his winnings. He hadn't won every single time; he'd lost often enough so that the other players weren't suspicious of him.

In my guise as 'his woman' – I inwardly snarled – my job mainly consisted of petting him like some spoilt lap-dog and refilling his drink every so often. I'd said nothing so far. Whilst I wasn't immediately recognizable, this was quite close to Arryn, and these people were not stupid. Smugglers and pirates did not survive long by being stupid, and I'd already received a number of glances. Thankfully, they seemed to be related to the torn dress Qui-Gon had told me to wear rather than to my face. Padmé, the lucky thing, had slipped away to sleep off her hangover

He passed over a wad of dirty notes and, grimacing, I rolled them up and stuffed them inside the front of my dress amidst more howls – this time of male approval. I flashed one admirer a wink.

Much to Qui-Gon/Rhykin's disapproval. He gave a low growl and wrapped an arm around my waist, makng me to yip.

"Tenna," he said. "We've had this talk before."

"Yes, Rhy," I said softly, trying to sound like an obedient woman, even though my feminist side was screeching at me to rip his head off.

"And what did I say?"

_He's only acting_. _Don't rip his head off. Yet._

"I'm yours."

Qui-Gon flashed a grin then _bit_ my earlobe. "And don't you forget that, woman."

"Understood!" I squealed, then turned my head and whacked his rear - not gently either. He yelped while I fought off a smirk.

"Evil woman," he growled, "You'll pay for that later."

"Can't wait," I replied breezily. A large hand pinched my own rear, making me squeal again, and I wriggled in Qui-Gon's arms, nearly jumping when I realized that he was becoming aroused. Had he actually _liked_ that? _  
_

"We got a room out the back," one of the men said, leering at me. "Nice dress, but it would look even better on the floor."

"True," he said, swallowing the last of his drink. "It's been too long." He got up then threw me over his shoulder, slapping me on the rump. I growled inwardly, using one hand to hold my hair out of my eyes and the other was pressed against his back, so I wouldn't become too acquainted with his...ahem, rear.

"You evil woman," he murmured as he marched out of the men's line of sight.

"Thank you," I replied prettily, considering that I was hiked up over his shoulder. "You can put me down."

He made no move to set me on my feet, so I resigned myself to being carted around like a sack of grain until he grew bored or until he tired – whichever occurred first. And knowing all too well that he had incredible stamina, I could only wait for his mischievous mood to pass. We entered a small room with plain but surprisingly clean bedding, with a sleeping Padmé curled up on one of the two beds.

_So that's where she disappeared to. _

"Are you going to put me down?" I asked waspishly.

"Of course!"

Obi-Wan tossed me onto the bed with a laugh and I landed with a bounce as he threw himself down, flinging his arms outward. Qui-Gon pulled the covers over us both and curled himself around me.

"Now what?" I asked quietly, my heart starting to pound.

"Now, we sleep," he replied quietly, his breath whispering past my ear. I shivered. "Are you cold?"

"A little," I said truthfully. The dress I'd been forced to wear was very provocative, and it didn't help that it was torn so much. Of course, the shivering had nothing to do with the dress. Gently, Qui-Gon rubbed his large hands up and down my arms, chafting the flesh slowly until my arms warmed. The motion soothed me, calmed me.

"Warmer?" he whispered. Sleepily, I nodded. "Go to sleep Calassë. Nothing's going to harm you."

"Of course not," I mumbled, yawning as I curled closer to Qui-Gon's warmth, "I'm with you."

* * *

******Chapter twenty-four. I really loved this chapter...so much fluff! Squee! Many thanks to **Equoise **who reviewed! Merci, mon Ami!**

******Also, please check out my facebook: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	25. Innocent Questions

**Chapter twenty-five**

Qui-Gon walked quietly alongside Padmé, taking in the majestic beauty of Arryn. Although he had travelled far and wide, he had never been this far in his travels, and he was sorry he'd never thought of it before.

Padmé bent over to examine a flower – a _Tindómiel_, he remembered, as Calassë had laughingly pointed them out earlier – and drank in its sweet scent, then stuck out her tongue when Calassë laughed mischievously at her before she turned away with a flurry of golden curls and walked just ahead of him, her slim hips swaying enticingly with each step.

He couldn't believe he'd been able to hold her in his arms last night. When he'd woken that morning, it'd been to a pink-cheeked woman sleeping soundly in his arms, her hands curled into his as her head rested on his chest. He wasn't naïve – he knew that he felt attraction to her. If all he'd wanted was a quick tumble, there was any number of women he could have pursued – he wasn't so modest that he didn't realize that they found him sexually attractive. But he wanted to love someone and be loved back. When he'd fallen in love with her he could not pinpoint, but knew that his heart was the Princess's.

"There's Raina!" Calassë said suddenly, pulling Qui-Gon from his musings. He followed her gaze to a large, sprawling building, surrounded by a high wall, with tall trees just peaking over the tops of the wall. He studied it and smiled as he pictured a tiny Calassë skinning her knees on one of the great trees.

"Come on, Qui-Gon, Padmé," she added cheerfully,tucking her hands through their arms and pulling them forward. "Raina's ecstatic to see you both."

Qui-Gon chuckled, but was interrupted by a little girl barrelling into Calassë with excited squeals.

"Lady Calassë! Lady Calassë!"

Calassë smiled widely, beautifully, and scooped up the child for a hug. "Hello!" she cried, twirling her around. "I'm so happy to see you again!" Then she put the child down and indicated her two companions. "This is Qui-Gon Jinn and Padmé Amidala. Padmé, Qui-Gon; Raina's daughter, Bellethiel."**  
**

The girl, whose dark hair and rose-quartz eyes made him think of a miniature Raina, was definitely _not_ shy.

"Hello! I'm Bellethiel," she said cheerfully. "I've heard of you," she added. "You're a Jedi. Can you do tricks like everyone says? Using a lightsaber must be so good! People say you saved Lady Calassë's life four years ago – is it true? Are you a hero? You don't look big or fierce – you look nice." She tucked her hand into Qui-Gon's and continued to chatter on. "So … have you always been a Jedi? Are you really good with a lightsaber? Is it hard to use one?"

Qui-Gon had been through interrogation more than once in his life. But this tiny inquisitor had him stumped. No sooner had he composed an answer to one of her questions than she had asked several more.

"Are you her Glassen?" Bellethiel asked suddenly. Now _that_ one caught his attention and he coughed, very aware of Calassë's wriggle of discomfort and the giggles coming from Padmé.

"No," he said. "We're good friends, that's all."

Both Padmé and Bellethiel pouted, evidently disappointed.

"Oh," she said, then prodded him. "You didn't answer my other questions."

"Well, where should I start?" he asked politely.

"At the beginning?" the girl shot back with a giggle.

"As you wish," Qui-Gon replied, holding his hand out for the little girl, who surprised him by taking it quite happily, swinging their joined hands widely as they walked along, enjoying the merriment on Padmé's and Calassë's faces. Calassë looked so young, carefree, as she laughed. She was beautiful, loving and caring – it was no surprise that he had fallen for her.

* * *

******Chapter twenty-five. I loved this chapter soo much! Really awkward to write, but Cherry Cola and pulling an all-nighter last night has clearly helped! Woo!**

******The next chapter is going to introduce a new character, and an old one too hopefully, and by the end of **Duty**, a new plot-twist shall have been introduced (several hopefully!) and explained to everyone's satisfaction.**

******Also, please check out my facebook: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) for covers for this trilogy!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	26. A Little Voice

**Chapter twenty-six**

"This is Yean?" Qui-Gon said in disbelief, as Padmé stared at the large structure before us. I looked at the familiar place, seeing it through Qui-Gon's eyes. Large, built out of stone and wood, set amongst the lush countryside of the country of Hylas. Bird song filled the air, and the scent of flowers was everywhere.

"Well, yes," I muttered uncertainly. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Qui-Gon interjected, his sharp eyes assessing the place for threats and areas of vulnerability. "It's beautiful," he added, directing that sharp-eyed look to one of the men who was speaking quietly with a man in a blue and red uniform. Raina sighed when the older man eyed Qui-Gon just as sharply, and she gestured for him to come over.

"Qui-Gon, this is D'Artagnan – he's Captain of the Guard," she said pointedly, her very tone screaming 'You can trust him!'. She knew that the Jedi was just doing his job, but there really was no need to scare the living daylights out of everyone.

"My lady," D'Artagnan said, bowing, his blue eyes warm, "You look well. I'm glad to see you have arrived safely."

"Thank you, Captain," I replied, nodding my head, "It is good to be back." I gestured to Qui-Gon and Padmé. "These are my companions. They are to receive the same treatment as myself. Is that understood?"

"Understood," he replied swiftly, bowing his dark head. "If you'll excuse me." His shrewd eyes flickered over to Qui-Gon, before turning and departing. Padmé chuckled.

"My, my, Calassë!" she teased, "You're very regal all of a sudden!"

"I'm supposed to be," I shrugged. "I'm home now, with my people. I have to set an example." _One that I would gladly shirk to someone else._ "If the Heir Apparent doesn't show dignity and refinement, as is befitting their station, pretenders will see the Heir as a weak monarch and attempt to take the throne. This can't happen."

As I was speaking, Raina ushered us into the temple and took us to the visitors' wing.

"Lady Calassë instructed that you were to have this room, Lady Padmé," Raina said, gesturing to a carved wooden door. "There are two other rooms adjoining that will suit you, Qui-Gon, and you, Lady Calassë."

"Please call me Padmé," the Senator said easily, waving a hand. "And this room suits me just fine, thank you."

"Yes; thank you,"Qui-Gon echoed.

"You're very welcome." Raina smiled, then bowed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go find that minx of a daughter of mine."

* * *

Padmé shut the door behind her, and sighing, glanced about her new room.

On the right side of it, a window took up half the wall, looking out into a flowery courtyard. A small tapestry hung on the wall above her bed, delicately embroidered with what Padmé assumed was Calassë's family coat of arms. A purple crescent moon was in the centre of a silver shield. Silver Tindómiel and red roses twisted their stems around the edges of the shield and the phases of the moon were illustrated around the whole image. The curtains around the bed were a deep blue colour with silver threads woven in. The light blue cover was folded back to reveal cool silk sheets in pristine white. There was a pile of cushions on the floor in the corner next to the window, while on the small table next to the bed was a fat candle and a small bunch of freshly gathered flowers.

There were small bookshelves in a deep coloured wood by the window, sitting directly underneath a large portrait of a woman who looked very like Calassë. Padmé stepped closer to the picture, her bag lying forgotten at her feet. The woman was beautiful. She was seated in a chair looking out the window at the full moon. Her long golden hair was left loose and tumbled to her feet. Otherworldly lilac eyes peered out of her alabaster face and the hint of a smile graced her lips. A strange warmth was flowing through her veins as she stared at the painted lady. She'd seen her somewhere before.

_But that's impossible! I've never been to Arryn before! Besides, Calassë's mother has been dead for years!_

_**Ah, but you forget,**_ a little voice told her, **_You used to be an Arryian yourself._**

Sometimes, Padmé reflected as she picked up her bag, the little voice in her head could be a right pain.

* * *

**Chapter twenty-six. I loved this chapter! Woo, D'Artagnan has appeared! If anyone wants to see what he looks like, ****check out my facebook for his picture: **www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) I'll update soon!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	27. Unyielding

**Chapter twenty-seven**

Sitting in front of her easel, Moirae lifted her head when she heard Obi-Wan's footsteps enter their rooms. But she did not turn. His footsteps, heavy and weary, paused in their bedroom, then moved on, toward the room where she sat, the room they had decided would be the baby's when it came.

His footsteps drew near, until they stopped at last directly behind her, and still she did not turn. She was angry. He had said he would be back before the morning was over, and she had waited but he did not return.

The morning had grown late. So she had risen, dressed, and had swept their home clean, still waiting for him, and yet he had not come, so she had to go to the healer's by herself. As the golden light of day faded softly to the muted silver of night, she had prepared the evening meal and had waited to share it with him, only to find herself eating alone, watching the rest of it grow cold.

Finally, knowing she couldn't sleep in their bed without him, she had assembled her easel, and had fitted her canvas upon it, one which she had been slowly painting at since the night she had promised herself to Obi-Wan. The colours were bright, chosen to match the endless happiness she had felt.

The border was woven to imitate a golden vine trailing along a crimson trellis, while the portrait within, carried the images of three people. A man stood over a seated woman, upon whose lap, the image was beginning to appear of a small child's, but whether the child was a boy or girl yet, she could not tell.

Standing behind his wife, Obi-Wan easily recognized his own image, as well as hers. That Moirae's image bore a child upon her lap, brought him comfort, and as he gazed upon the blissful joy within the faces of the little family woven into her tapestry, he sat heavily into a chair beside the doorway.

"It is beautiful," he said softly, as Moirae, clearly aware of him, did not turn. "You're angry with me," he mumbled, dropping his face into his hands.

"You said you would be back before the appointment," Moirae clipped in return.

"And I meant what I said," he sighed, wishing she would turn, aching that she did not. "But I did not realize the import of the summons."

"So you were gone from your wife all day? Or did you simply forget that you were no longer a carefree bachelor, with no one waiting at home, waiting for your return?" she asked, her eyes fixed determinedly on her easel. Now Obi-Wan would know what it was like to be ignored.

"Moirae, please, don't be angry with me."

His voice sounded tired, and Moriae's heart at last began to soften.

"Forgive me," she sighed as she began at last, to turn. "I don't mean to be angry. It's just the hormones talking. I had hoped-" Her words melted into silence as her eyes found him. His head lifted from his hands to meet her eyes, and he saw the confusion in them, and the questions.

"Obi," she asked quietly, and his heart felt as if it would break at her soft question, "why are you looking like that?" A long moment passed as Moirae sat before her easel, waiting for her husband to answer. "Obi?" she asked again softly, when he did not answer.

"Moirae," he sighed, "I must go."

"Go?" she asked, turning from her easel and rising to her feet, "I don't understand. Go where?" She moved softly toward him, and knelt beside him where he still sat, hunched and weary. "Obi?" she whispered, resting a hand upon his knee, and reaching for one of his hands. "Obi, tell me what's wrong," she pleaded, gazing up into her husband's troubled face. "Where must you go?"

"Camino, to follow a Bounty Hunter," he answered at last, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Camino?" she repeated. Her head felt suddenly heavy, and she rested it upon his knee.

"Yes," he answered as a hand touched her hair softly, his fingers running gently through it.

"How soon?"

"Within the hour."

"Obi," she whispered, shaking her head. She could speak no more, for a sob suddenly choked her words from her. Pulling her hand from his own, she covered her face, and continued to weep.

"Moirae," she heard him murmur as he dropped to his knees as well. His arms went around her, and pulled her close. She clung to him, burying her face against his neck as she continued to sob her heart out. One of his arms fairly crushed her against him, while the other found its way into her hair. "Moriae, my little flower. Don't cry. I'll come back." As he spoke, Moirae drew back, lifting her swollen eyes to his.

"I'm going with you."

Obi-Wan blinked slowly studying his wife's tearstained face as the words she had spoken settled in his mind.

"You can't," he said, with a determined shake of his head. "You're not going. Stay here."

"No," she protested with a vigorous shake of her head. She drew back and rose to her feet. "I'm coming with you, Obi."

Without staying to listen to his protest, she turned away, and darted to their bedroom. A wooden chest that had belonged to her since she was a child, sat against the wall, and she threw it open, before she peeled off the dress she wore, and flung it upon their bed. Out of the chest, she drew a clean tunic and a pair of breeches, and Obi-Wan slowly entered the room to see her clambering into the mannish clothes. He paused, and a reluctant smile came briefly to his face.

"Moirae, you can't," he protested softly, drawing near. Seeing her in this decidedly unfinished stage of dressing caused heat to dance up and down his spine, and his thoughts flashed back to the unforgettable nights they had shared. He had an hour. Surely they could give each other a few minutes, at least before he left her for Force knew how long.

"Moirae," he murmured, drawing close and reaching out for her hand.

"Who are you, to tell me I can't?" she demanded testily, drawing her hand away from his so that she could push it through the sleeve of the tunic she was pulling over her head. Obi-Wan stepped back, startled as if doused with a cold bucket of water.

"I'm your husband, doesn't _that_ count for something?" he snapped.

"Yes, my _husband_!" she interjected, turning on him, her hands upon her hips. "Not my _father_! You are not higher than I am. Yet you demand I stay behind while you know of a truth that I can handle myself."

"This is not a game, Moirae!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air, and striding vigorously about the room. "This is a very skilled and dangerous Bounty Hunter! You could die!"

"And so could you!" she shot back. "How do you think I feel? You're prepared to go to Camino, to throw yourself heroically to a Bounty Hunter, yet you demand that I stay behind. Your logic is inconsistent, Obi-Wan. I'm as skilled as you, and you know this."

"I'm well aware of your skills," Obi-Wan seethed, "But if we were in combat, I'd be worried about you. I'd be afraid for you, that I wouldn't be watching my business, and both of us would be killed."

"There'd be no reason for you to be any more worried about me than, say, Mace, or Yoda," she snapped. "Why can't you treat us all the same?"

Obi-Wan's eyes flashed.

"Because _you_ are my _wife_!"

"You mean because I'm a woman?" she demanded. "Why must you judge me as inferior because I'm not a man?"

"I didn't say that!" he retorted. "All I mean is that I want to protect you! Women are not meant to go to such a war as this!"

"Then why did you not vehemently protest when Calassë went away?" she demanded, lowering her tone to nearly normal.

"Because I'm not in love with Calassë!" he said through teeth that were crushed together.

"Oh, but did Qui-Gon demand that she stay behind while he protected the Senator?" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes, her voice rising again, "No! For he knows that she is as skilled as he. I can spar better than anyone in this Temple, except, perhaps, you, Qui-Gon and Yoda. I've never used womanhood as an excuse to cower. I've proven myself time and again. I've as much right to fight as any man! As my husband, my equal, you can't dictate what I will and will not do!"

"That's true. As your husband, I can't," he sighed his voice lowered to almost normal, and then slowly he added with a hint of a smile, "But as a Jedi Master, I can decide who goes, and who stays."

She drew in a sharp, angry breath, suddenly realizing he was right, and with that, she sat hard upon their bed, and folded her arms tightly.

"Can't you understand for once?" she demanded, her eyes furiously burning holes in his face. "I'm as afraid for you, as you are for me. How can that be different?"

"What about the baby?" His angry tone had vanished entirely, and now his voice was soft and weary.

"Don't bring the baby into this," she huffed. "I can fight with or without a baby in my womb, thank you very much."

"Perhaps," he agreed with a soft, almost sad sigh. "But it's a good excuse to keep you here."

She shook her head, and turned her eyes from him.

"You're angry with me, I know," he muttered sadly. "Can you not find it in your heart to forgive me?" She looked away from him, scowling at the wall. "No? Perhaps not," he murmured softly, as if talking to himself. He turned and sought for the latch to their bedroom door, as if he were groping in the darkness. His expression was one of weary pain, but he finally managed to draw the door open. But before he stepped out, he paused and looked back.

"I'm sorry I made you angry," he said quietly, and finished, "I love you, Moirae. And I will be back soon."

His eyes lingered long over her stiff and unyielding form, then trailed over their shared bed. And then he turned, and went out, and shut the door, just before Moirae sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

* * *

**Chapter twenty-seven. So sad! Some Obirae/Moiwan goodness for **Equiose**. Hope you like it, mon ami!**

**Check out my facebook for my pictures: **www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!)**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	28. Tangled Webs

**Chapter twenty-eight**

"A little bird tells me that you have used the gift I gave you to do nothing but play," Thantos said without preamble as his little spy entered the darkened room. She scowled at the tall, dark man who stood almost serenely, except for the sly tepid grin on his face before the narrow window. In spite of the many candles about the room, the air was still thick and shaded. But she liked the shadows. They were more suited to her. She flashed a scathing look at her dark robed companion.

"Your men stole my horse," she growled in return to Thantos' words, flopping down into an empty chair, "And killed it!"

"You should be grateful that I told them of your coming," he said evenly with a lift of his brow, "If I hadn't ordered them to leave you untouched, they would have killed you as well." He smiled sourly. "Among other things."

She said nothing to this, as she absorbed the man's low spoken words with a shudder. At last, she shrugged, and asked casually, "How did you know I was coming?"

"You are quite predicable, my dear," Thantos' voice was cool, oily as if he knew of many things that she did not know, and enjoyed leaving her in her ignorance. "When Calassë left you alone, I knew you would come to me immediately."

Casually, Thantos dusted off his hands, and reached for a filled wine goblet at his side, and took a sip. She eyed it thirstily. But Thantos simply smiled, and set it back down, offering her nothing.

"As I was saying, my dear," he cooed soothingly, "you weren't able to complete the task that I asked of you. You could have gotten Qui-Gon Jinn for yourself. You could have destroyed the Jedi Order from within. You failed - miserably."

"Jinn was beyond me!" she defended herself with a sudden angry huff. "He didn't want me, and I couldn't use the powers you gave me, because he put all his thought to defending _her_."

"I thought it a foolish, useless thing to be able to change into the image of whatever woman a man was thinking of," Thantos muttered almost inaudibly. She turned to him, and flashed him a vicious smirk through Calassë's fair face, as her long hair flared momentarily to a bright silvery gold, then snuffed back to her own natural colour.

"You're fortunate that I am patient," Thantos seethed softly through his teeth, his cold eyes flashing. "And that I have found a way in spite of your failure. Otherwise, I might have thought that you'd outlived your usefulness. And then," he turned now, his attention fully on the woman before him now and lifted a brow, "you would have more to worry about than stolen horses."

* * *

I pursed my lips, feeling out of place as I touched a hand self-consciously against the cloth of the gown Raina had given me. My hair, no longer plaited, fell down my back loosely. I looked down into my cup of wine, barely touched, before I felt the sensation of eyes upon me, and glanced up to meet the gazes of a small group of youths across the room, barely older than boys, who blushed and looked away, grinning sheepishly as my gaze found them.

"My lady?"

I glanced away from the youths, and into the eyes of D'Artagnan who stood near, a slim smile on his face as he bobbed his head slightly toward me.

"Captain," I returned, nodding my own head toward him.

"I'm glad to meet you properly at last, and to know that you are unscathed, after all that you've passed through." He pursed his lips, his brow wrinkling in a gesture of apology. "I'm sorry for your losses."

"Thank you, Captain," I said, offering him a smile before taking a sip of my wine. "But I'm safe now."

"Much to the relief of your betrothed, I don't doubt," D'Artagnan said, lowering his eyes for a moment before bringing them up again. I choked on my wine at his words.

"Qui-Gon is not my betrothed," I gasped, feeling heat burn in my cheeks, "We are...friends."

I glanced at the floor, uncertain what to say.

"I'm keeping you from your evening. Please forgive my manners, my lady."

D'Artagnan bowed stiffly, and with a smile, he turned and was gone.

"Ah," a voice, high and piping drew near, and I turned, smiling softly at Bellethiel who drew near, her sparkling eyes fixed upon my face. "It's nice to see everyone with something to smile about at last."

Bellethiel's eyes danced and twinkled with merriment, and I found myself smiling back.

"They are good people," I agreed, nodded toward Raina, who stood with Padmé, some distance away from us, her face radiant as she laughed with the young Senator. "You look very pretty."

"So do you," Bellethiel countered with a giggle. "Is that one of mother's gowns?"

I smirked, and looked down at the cream coloured cloth of the gown I wore.

"She insisted that this was a gift. She said she had another like it."

"Really? I hope I get it when I'm older!" Bellethiel said cheerfully, taking a sip from her own little glass of berry juice. I shifted my weight slightly so that the soft white cloth of the gown whispered as it fluttered faintly about my body. Its fabric was a little heavier than what I was used to, and slightly coarser, but it was still lovely, delicately embroidered with golden thread about the throat and shoulders, and with sleeves that fell open at the elbows, trailing down, like a bird's wings.

_Yet when she took me to her rooms to change, I could see that the gowns within her wardrobe are already very few._

"I'm sure you will, youngling," I agreed, lifting my cup of wine, and taking a sip.

* * *

******Chapter twenty-eight. Oh dear, the evil wench has arrived and hooked up with Thantos again. Not good. **

******Yeah yeah, I know, why are Padmé and co. at a party when they only just arrived back? Well, the Heir Apparent (i.e. Calassë) has just returned, so that would be a cause for some kind of celebration; plus it ties in nicely with my story, so just let it lie! Darn conscience giving me a hard time! *grumble***

******Check out my facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	29. Dreams of the Past I

**Chapter twenty-nine**

Padmé sighed in her sleep, shifting her weight as she turned onto her side. Her hands were folded beneath her head, and she frowned, her dreams beginning to trouble her. But, as the quiet voice in the corner of her mind insisted, these were not dreams, but memories.

It was about time she started remembering them.

* * *

"Silly youngling," Calassë smiled, stopping before the tiny maiden, and reaching out a hand, touching her brow. "You've gotten berry juice on your face."

"Oh?" she breathed, touching a hand to her forehead where she had brushed the lock of mahogany hair from her eyes. Sure enough, it came away wet with the crimson juice of berries.

"Here, Nimwen. I'll get that."

From within her tunic, Calassë produced a handkerchief, and the younger maiden rolled her eyes.

"It's just berry juice, Calassë. I'm not bleeding," she grumbled, but held obediently still nonetheless as the older girl proceeded to wipe the handkerchief across her brow. "Sometimes you are overprotective."

"It's my duty to be!" Calassë answered brightly, stepping back. "And a very glad duty it is," she added, flicking a finger playfully over the tip of Nimwen's nose, to which she smiled. Calassë's face darkened slightly, and she looked downward as she tucked the handkerchief away. "But with that Dûrion-"

"Dûrion is a fine man, Calassë," Nimwen countered. "Why can you not see that?"

She shook her head, looking down at her, pity heavy within her eyes as she smiled sadly.

"You have such a tender heart, Nimwen. But I believe you are trusting the wrong man. There is something in him, something he keeps hidden-"

"And what is it? What has he done, that you think him unworthy of me?" she shot back. Calassë seemed worried, and for a moment, Nimwen felt a stab of guilt. She did not wish to argue with her.

"I do not know if he has _done_ anything, so much as he keeps his plans hidden in his heart." She looked down at her, a sad grimace upon her face.

"Would you choose my husband for me?" Nimwen grumbled to the ground. Calassë sighed.

"I would have you love whom you will."

"I love Dûrion."

"I do not think you do. Not in the deeps of your heart where true love is. That as yet, I think has gone untouched."

"And how do you know my heart?" she countered, her voice quavering.

"I know that Dûrion does not truly love you," Calassë growled, though her voice was gentle, and she came forward to grasp her elbows. " Not with the way he looks at you. He wants you, to be sure, but not in a way in which I approve. And you should not approve of it either. Not if you wish for lasting happiness."

Nimwen opened her mouth to protest, but her argument died away, as a shard of truth drove painfully through her heart.

"When you find one to _truly_ love, it will be for more than the physical pleasure Dûrion wants from you," Calassë muttered gently. "He will love you for the goodness in your heart, and not only for your beauty."

"Ah, my ladies! I heard my name! You are speaking well of me, I hope?"

The nearby voice, though at first seemed bright in greeting, carried beneath it, a darkened hint of warning. Dûrion, Sanya's nephew, came striding near, his eyes bright, and his smile broad.

Nimwen's eyes shot to the ground at Dûrion's approach, and she felt the rush of heat rising in her cheeks. The way he walked toward her, striding so easily with the smooth grace which was his- the way his thin tunic brushed across the muscles of his chest- Her thoughts darted to what Calassë had just spoken of, and she wondered truthfully for a moment, what it was about Dûrion which attracted her so. Was his heart as good and gentle as Calassë's Adan? Were his words and actions to her, honourable, and respectful?

She drew in a ragged sigh as a troubled thought made her brow furrow. For she could think of no other reason, aside from his alluring charm, that caused her to believe she loved him. Her heart faltered. Love could not be that way. Not truly. But as she looked back up at Sanya's nephew, she swiftly forgot what Calassë had said.

"Dûrion," she smiled, and let the dark haired man snatch her by the waist, kissing her hungrily, and she wondered for an instant if perhaps he did it, for no other reason, but to goad Calassë.

"How are you, this fine morning?" Dûrion asked playfully as his mouth released her, and smiled down upon her.

"Well, Dûrion. Very well, thank you," she smiled, though a part of her mind shuddered that he would clutch her so possessively. "And you?"

"How could I be anything but perfect, in the presence of such a fair vision as you?" He teased in ducked her head, smiling, and he at last, at a glance to Calassë, released her and stepped back. She glanced at Calassë as well, and pursed her lips at her arms folded across her chest, her face like stone as she eyed Dûrion.

"Shall we go on a walk together, just you and I?" Dûrion asked brightly in deliberate ignorance of Calassë's challenging eyes.

"She has not finished her duties here, yet," Calassë interrupted abruptly.

"I can think of a few _duties_ she has yet to-" Dûrion seethed, "-perform."

Calassë did nothing but scowl at Sanya's nephew as Dûrion smiled.

"Come then, my dear," Dûrion finished, reaching for her hand.

But a sudden clap upon Dûrion's shoulder stopped him, and she turned as Calassë leaned meaningfully toward the king's nephew, and whispered in a hushed voice, meant for Dûrion alone, "_Lay one finger upon her, and by Nyx, I swear I will kill you_."

Nimwen gulped and dropped her eyes, pretending she had not heard.

"_I have friends, Calassë, Second Born of the House of Séregon_," Dûrion muttered in return. "_You could not reach me_."

"_If I couldn't, my father would_," Calassë returned smoothly, "_He and my mother are not so foolish as you wish to believe. Nimwen is under my family's protection. Watch your steps carefully, fool_."

To this, Dûrion said nothing. He simply smiled as if the two were friends, and had traded kindly pleasantries. But there was also fear hidden behind his eyes.

"Very well," he said aloud cheerfully, and with a smile and bob of his head, bid them farewell.

"I will see you later, Dûrion?" Nimwen called to his back as Dûrion with head held high, strode away.

"Oh, most assuredly," Dûrion called back, turning his head to flash a dark smirk at Calassë before he turned away once again.

"Calassë," Nimwen muttered as she turned away, and began to pluck with vengeance, the berries from the bush she stood beside. "Why must you always be that way to him?"

"Do not be angry," Calassë murmured, her voice pained, "I do what I must, for I wish nothing vile to happen to you."

Softly, she came up behind Nimwen, placing the warm weight of her hands upon her shoulders. Nimwen did not turn, and she sensed that her aloofness hurt Calassë as she pretended to busy herself plucking berries. But at last, she sighed, and her shoulders sagged. And slowly, her hand lifted to cover Calassë's where it rested upon her shoulder.

"_Nana*_. I cannot always be angry with you, no matter that we disagree," she sighed softly, turning toward her. "You are too good to me."

"It is my duty to be," she sighed, and added, "And a very glad duty it is for me to bear."

She smiled. And with that, she placed a gentle kiss against her hair.

* * *

Elsewhere in the Temple, another was dreaming of memories of the past...

* * *

******Chapter twenty-nine. Okay, so we get a glimpse of just who the mysterious Dûrion is and what his relationship is to Nimwen...and also, get a glimpse of Nimwen and Calassë's relationship!**

******Nana*=mother, mama. This bascially represents how Nimwen views Calassë in their relationship.**

******Check out my facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	30. Dreams of the Past II

**Chapter thirty**

"Shh, Aranel," I whispered as I held my sleeping charge against my shoulder as I sat with her upon a cushioned window seat gazing out over the star washed countryside below. "It's long past your bedtime, youngling. And I'll find my friends before I can sleep."

I tipped my head, feeling the warm touch of the sleeping infant's cheek against my own. Little Aranel, the youngest and newest addition to the shrine of Yean; so trusting and sweet. And I was entrusted with the care of this precious child, now seven years old, a round faced, merry little infant who was just now learning to speak, and in whose bright turquoise eyes rested the light of the very stars. I now knew why my sister loved taking care of me when I was a babe.

I smiled, gently jostling the child's weight against my shoulder as I began to hum a wordless tune. Aranel was deep in her dreams, but I didn't want to put her in her bed; not yet. I would soon, I promised myself. Then I would go find my friends upon the walls, for I didn't want to miss the heralding in of the Gates of Summer. I would sing to the glory of the rising sun with the other girls, and if I was lucky, and if he had found a way to slip away from his father, Adan would find me.

My heart jumped lightly as I thought of him. Adan, tall and proud, with his firm shoulders, and his dark hair in elegant curls that framed his face. I smiled to myself. "You have only one heart to give away," my sister once said to me. Surely I loved him? Wasn't the warm tingle I felt when he looked at me and smiled, or when his hand touched mine proof of that? I blushed darkly as I lifted a hand and brushed my fingers lightly against Aranel's cheek.

"There now, little one," I whispered as I lay the sleeping infant down within her bed beside the window and smoothed a straying lock of hair from her sleep-flushed cheek. "Sleep well. I will see you, soon enough, when the morning comes."

I bent low, and pressed a kiss against her smooth little cheek, then straightened, and turned to go.

"Adan!" I gasped, startled by the silhouette that had appeared silently in the doorway behind me. Placing a hand over my heart, I uttered a nervous laugh to still its suddenly wild beating. There he stood, tall and dark, adorned in travelling robes, as befitting a lord's son on this, the eve of the Gates of Summer.

"I thought you would not be here until morning?" I said softly, going into his open arms.

"My father left earlier then I thought he would," Adan muttered low, his lips pressing against my brow. "And I missed you," he muttered, his voice muffled against my hair as his strong arms clutched me closer.

"I too," I murmured, seeking his eyes through the warm darkness. "Have you found her?"

"No," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly, "Not yet. But we will. Father refuses to give up on her."

"As do you," I sighed, and smiled gently, hopefully, at the slender smile that wound its way across his face. "Your sister will be found, and she will be well. The war will end, and you and I can announce our plans to my father."

"A day I long for," he muttered, his face softening before his eyes sharpened and his gaze darted to the window.

"Adan?" I questioned, "What is it, my love?"

Narrowing my eyes at his silence, I turned my head, following his gaze out the window to see a bright red light within the sky. The sun it couldn't be; the sun rose in the east and this light was in the north. And at that realisation, my heart collapsed in ashes. In the distance, beyond the walls and upon the mountains, I saw them coming through the forest like a swarm of locusts. Beyond the window, I could hear shouts and screams from the others as the burning legions of Bahralt drew closer, advancing with deadly unchecked swiftness toward the walls of Yean.

We were unprepared, I realized numbly. Too confident we had all been, in the safety of our hidden paradise. But the war had found us at last.

"Aranel!" I cried, startling the child awake as I darted from the safety of Adan's arms and snatched her from her bed. This peaceful place, beneath the mountain of Hylas would be an easy target for the rebels, whose chants grew louder. Aranel wailed, flailing her tiny fists about. But her cries were nothing to the cries and shouts of fear and terror that were coming from beyond the window.

"Come!" Adan shouted, drawing his sword as the red light in the north grew harsher, and the distant roar drew nearer. "You must get to safety!"

"But the others," I choked, clutching Aranel as Adan grasped my hand and pulled me along behind him.

"Are not as important," he said shortly, "You are the last of your line; your sister is dead and your parents fighting for the city of Gorvaht." He smiled, a thin shadow of a smile as a coldness swept through my veins. "I'll keep you safe, my love," he breathed fiercely. I closed my eyes briefly, unable to keep the tears back. We ran through the high, pillared halls, and toward the open doorway that led out of the empty dormitories, onto the high terrace overlooking the courtyard below. I could see night sky beyond the open doorway, above a hazy red glow.

"No," I whispered, gasping hard as I stumbled out the doors upon the terrace beneath the high clear sky. From our vantage point, we could see all about us, that Yean was afire. Distant trees nearest the walls, once high and fair, burned like torches, as steam from the fountains and the river that ran through the grounds rose up in a hissing, steaming haze, descending into a thick misty fog.

Taking another step outward in disbelief, I stumbled slightly over something at my feet. I glanced down, only to recoil in horror. A girl lay at my feet, a young woman near my own age, half-immersed in the river; with hair of dark mahogany that danced with the current. Her eyes, a cool shade of ice blue, were open, staring up into the night sky. She was dead, a sword, bathed in blood still clenched within her fist. I knew who she was. Erunna. My first friend at Yean. I began to weep for my fallen friend and for myself as I shook with fear.

Was anyone else dead, save for Aranel and myself, and Adan? I heard a voice, high and frightened, screaming my name, and through the haze and smoke came the figure of Nimwen, her face flushed and frightened. Nimwen's white robes were stained with smoke, and her hair, once tamed elegantly into long curls, fell in a tangled disarray about her neck and shoulders.

"Nimwen!" I cried, rushing toward her upon the steps as a small glimmer of relief darted through me at the appearance of a familiar face amid the chaos. Nimwen put a hand to her mouth and tears of relief glimmered in her eyes, and as we hurried near, she extended her arms eagerly, clasping Aranel and myself to her. Instantly the baby's wailing calmed, and she slung her plump arms about our necks.

"_Nana_, I had feared the worst for you," Nimwen choked, half weeping as she gently ran a soft hand over my cheek.

"The younglings?" I urged. "And Priestess Sanya?"

"The younglings are gone; Alya has taken them over the mountain," Nimwen gasped, glancing backward, and nodding down into the thick cloud of mist. "And Sanya has been terrified for you. She will be relieved to know you are unhurt. They have taken the town and most of the west side of the shrine. Marijan and many others have already fallen. Come with me, quickly, there is a way of escape-"

"No!" Adan screamed suddenly cutting off Nimwen's words as a black shadow flashed over us, swooping near. And he shoved me down upon the steps as dozens of crudely made arrows slashed across his back, and stabbed painfully through the cloth of Nimwen's gown, and into little Aranel's chest. But I had no time to cry out before I was fell like a helpless leaf, landing into the river and swept away with the current.

My heart sobbing with despair. Nimwen was lost, and little Aranel with her. And Adan...Oh, _Adan_...

I closed my eyes against the bitterness of my tears as I felt the water's currents quicken, and take me away from the destroyed shrine of Yean.

* * *

******Chapter thirty. Here's the chapter I promised you a while back, about Adan and Nimwen's death. I'll be honest, I cried when I wrote this. But wars are senseless and violent, so I felt I had to portray it as best I could. Doesn't mean I liked it though.**

******Check out my facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

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**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	31. First Priority

**Chapter thirty-one**

"Padmé?"

Calassë's voice, followed by a soft rapping upon the wood of her chamber door brought Padmé's head up from where she sat upon her bed, her knees drawn in close to herself, hugging the thick blue blanket around her, her face turned away from the door, though she glanced up as the other girl entered the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

"I heard you cry out some time ago," Calassë murmured as she rested her hands on the trunk at the end of the bed, running her fingers thoughtfully over the wood. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Padmé returned quietly, her voice calm.

"Padmé," Calassë sighed, sitting beside her and touching a hand to her hair, smoothing it back behind her ear, though Padmé would not meet her eyes. "Your memories are returning to you."

Padmé looked up briefly into the lady's penetrating eyes.

"I'm afraid to face them, _Nana_, these- memories-" Padmé whimpered. And to this, Calassë leaned near, drawing Padmé to her, like a child. How easily the name had slipped from her mouth, Calassë mused.

"_Nana_, it was a nightmare," Padmé sniffed. "It was nothing-"

"You are strong," Calassë soothed softly, rocking the Senator's dark head against her shoulder as Padmé sagged wearily in the lady's arms, trustingly, as in the arms of her own mother. "And brave. But it isn't a sin to admit weakness, little one." Her hand reached out, and touched the cloth of the blanket Padmé held, with a thoughtful hand, the fabric glittering beneath the touch of her fingers. "These memories, painful as they are, are like poison drawn from a wound. Pain will come, but with it, cleansing."

"I dreamt of Dûrion, _Nana_-" Padmé breathed. Her face flushed as she spoke, and her voice faded into quiet, her words unfinished, but Calassë's eyes grew moist and thoughtful as a small smile tugged upon the edges of her mouth as she let the cloth of the small blanket run through her fingers.

"He is nothing to you now," Calassë said softly, "He is gone from this world and can't hurt you anymore."

Falling silent, Calassë stood and straightened Padmé's nightgown, and drew her coverlet over her again, as if Padmé was a youngling, and touched a hand once again to her cheek as Padmé yawned and slipped quietly into the realm of dreams as easily as a child, before Calassë left the room silently; as if she had never been there.

* * *

Dawn within the sheltered walls of Yean seemed suited to Qui-Gon as he walked upon a smooth earthen path, Calassë's arm looped through his as they strolled in companionable silence. The red tints of dawn filtered down through the leaves of the trees, alighting upon her face, and bathing her in fiery radiance. Her hair seemed etched in lines of ruby, and her very flesh seemed aflame. Her soft lips were curved upward in a slight smile that set Qui-Gon's heart to pounding, their eyes meeting now and again as they shared a brief smile.

"Do you like Arryn, Qui-Gon?" she asked, breaking the silence at last, to which Qui-Gon grinned.

"I find it peaceful," he murmured, tipping his head slightly, as the path they trod dipped down a shallow hill. "And intriguing. But Yean is only a small part of it."

"Well, one day, when it's safe once again, we can go to Sanctus," Calassë offered, as Qui-Gon's arm circled her shoulders, and drawing her every closer to him as the light grew warm about them. "It's beautiful, and there are others who you would enjoy forging relationships with there."

"Until then," Qui-Gon murmured softly, "I have you all to myself."

Calassë seemed to sense the unspoken emotion in his words, and drew to a stop. The still, warm air seemed to shimmer between them with unspoken emotion as he drew nearer to her, and lifted a hand, touching her cheek with his fingertips, gently lifting her face so that their eyes met-

"My lady!"

The voice shattered the quiet, like a stone cast into a quiet pond as D'Artagnan came dashing suddenly through the trees, gasping hard, his eyes fierce and wild. Calassë jumped at the suddenness of his voice, and darted behind Qui-Gon's shoulder before his hand grasping hers, reassured her, and she came ducking from behind him to study D'Artagnan with embarrassment in her eyes.

"Forgive me, my lady," D'Artagnan panted, trying to catch his breath.

"Captain, what is it?" Calassë asked, her brow lifting slightly, making her look very regal - and very haughty. Qui-Gon bit back a smirk at the thought.

"A small regiment has invaded the eastern edge of the forest," came the quiet reply. Qui-Gon's eyes darted swiftly to Calassë's, his heart wrenching at the sudden wild fear that claimed them before a curtain seemed to fall over her eyes, shrouding her emotions.

"Ready what men are here," she murmured, smoothing her skirts. "We must be ready within the hour. Captain, you and Master Jinn will remain here. I will lead our men."

Ragged pain flashed across D'Artagnan's and Qui-Gon's faces, eyes widened and faces taut with pain.

"My lady, I must insist-"

"You can't go-"

"I have no choice!" Calassë snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. "You will both stay here with Padmé, Raina and Bellethiel. Padmé is your first priority - your _only _priority Master Jinn. Captain, you protect Raina and her daughter. I am not going to compromise on this. Don't even think about it- " her eyes darted to Qui-Gon, "One Force-suggestion and you will face serious consequences, Jinn."

And with that, she turned, and headed back to the temple, leaving two vaguely shocked men behind her.

* * *

******Chapter thirty-one. Took a while, but here it is! I know Calassë seems to have a bit of a personality change in this chappie, but let's be honest, she's Heir to the throne; she's supposed to be all determined and stuff. Weak/scared Heir=zero stability for Arryn. My math knows at least that much. And why is D'Artagnan acting a bit weird here? Hmm...stay tuned.**

******Check out my facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

**Please review! They keep me going!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	32. General Ainion

**Chapter thirty-two**

I felt a twinge of fear as I crept along a narrow path woven through the high branches of the trees. It was a path that was little more than thick branches twisted along the natural planes of their growth following one another in succession as each branch's tapering boughs wove into the leafing tendrils of another, sturdy enough to support the weight of the light footed warriors. One hand grasped at smaller branches above me for support while I clutched my bow tightly in a sweaty fist. I paused, my hand clutching a nearby branch for support as I gazed down at two dark shapes through the tree branches where they scurried about upon the ground, half hidden by shadow. They were alone, it appeared, and would be easy targets.

"Them?" I whispered to my companion who stood nearby. "They are our enemies?" I could hear the trembling in my voice, and felt shamed that I was so frightened. I had been in combat before. Why now, did I start acting the frightened youngling, when my people looked to me for strength and surety?

"They are, my lady. Is there something wrong?" General Ainion asked, glancing back at me with an expression of sympathy.

"I thought they would be grown men," I admitted. "They are barely of adolescence age. So young."

"They are the sons of men who came before," he answered with a thin smile of understanding. "They don't know they are doing wrong. Merely following their father's footsteps." He paused. "My daughter has never seen this either. I hope she is never called upon to deal with this, though, one never knows what the future may bring."

"What is her name?" I asked, my eyes following the men on the ground.

"Bellethiel," he answered. My eyes widened in surprise.

"_You_ are her father?" I asked incredulously, "Why have I not seen you at the temple?"

My words ended as swiftly as they had begun, for the harsh crack of axes was suddenly cut off by the whisper of arrows followed by the thunk of the narrow shafts penetrating the boys' bodies. Soft groans rose up, and the dark, half hidden shadows tumbled to the earth.

"Follow me," Ainion ordered, and he ran along the branch as I struggled along behind him, grasping at branches as I went for support. Three more dark figures came creeping from beneath the shadows like insects from beneath the rot of a stone to confront the two men on the ground.

The first barked something harsh in a language that I could not understand, I was too far from them to distinguish the words. One man returned a seething reply to the harsh curse, and he and his companion snatched their blades from the quivers at their backs; one,with two white knives, and the other, a long bright bladed sword that glittered beneath the sunlight.

The three boys chuckled darkly, and again one of them spat what seemed to be a challenge, yet made no move, waiting for the others to come at them.

Beside me, I became aware of Ainion slowly drawing forth an arrow from his quiver, and followed suit, hearing the wild thunder of my heart within my chest. The boys locked in a face-off with the two men upon the ground were clearly unaware of others who watched from the treetops.

My attention was jerked suddenly away from the two as a movement caught my eye. Ainion had yet to notice it, for he stood beyond me, his sight blocked from a jutting branch. But from the darkness of the shadows, the dark shape of an experienced warrior, came slithering slowly forward. Within his fist, was clenched a curving blade, and he raised the weapon high above his head, bearing its sights upon one man's unprotected back.

I did not think. My movements were more of instinct rather than conscious thought. I set the nock of an arrow to my bowstring, drew the string to my cheek, and let fly, hearing the familiar zip and thunk of the arrow flying from the string and into its target, the skin of the warrior's throat. With a low yell that ended in a frothing gurgle, the warrior tumbled to the ground, dead.

With sharp grunts of surprise and hatred, the three boys turned sharply, looking up to where the arrow had come from. One snatched a bow that hung at his side, and drew back the string upon a black feathered arrow as the men lunged forward, engaging the first two boys in furious but brief combat, slaying them both within seconds of each other. A flashing white knife sunk beneath the last boy's ribs only a fraction of an instant after the arrow was released from the string, and flew toward our hiding place within the branches, seeming to grow larger as it came, destined for a spot right between the eyes - my eyes.

"My lady!" Ainion shouted. I felt a force lunge into my shoulder, and felt myself falling, hitting my shoulder hard upon the level branch as a harsh thunk struck something above me, and I heard a grunt of surprise and pain that though it was a soft sound, seemed to echo long through the trees.

Glancing up, I felt a harsh breath pull into my lungs, and a part of me refusing to accept what my eyes were reporting. Ainion stood above me, wavering on his feet as he gazed down in confusion and mild surprise at a black feathered arrow that poked through the front of his tunic. A bright spot of red was spreading over the cloth of his tunic around the shaft, and as he drew in a long held breath, it came out sharp and ragged, followed by a harsh cough that brought up drops of blood.

"G-General? Ainion?" I asked, my voice small in the forest that seemed suddenly silent as death. But he did not answer. He simply glanced down into my eyes, with a helpless, almost remorseful expression as his knees buckled.

"_No_!" I screamed, and lunged upward to snatch at him as he fell, tumbling heavily from the branch, falling through the silent air, to land with a heavy thump upon the ground below, scattering leaves about him as he struck the earth.

"Ainion!" one man shouted, and I saw the two upon the ground rushing to his side. My mind still could not understand what had happened as I scrambled to my feet, forcing my trembling limbs to work as I scrambled down the tree hastily. My feet scattered fallen leaves before me as I stumbled onto the ground, and scrambled to where Ainion lay, the others kneeling over him. Reaching out, I caught hold of Ainion's hand within my own, inwardly shrinking away from the threading pulse I felt in his hand.

"Lady-" Ainion choked, his voice barely audible.

"Ainion, my friend, do not fear," I said in a thick voice that trembled and shook. "We will get you home. All will be well. Raina will nurse you back to health."

Ainion's eyes were shining in the dark, a thick stream of blood running from one side of his mouth as he shook his head despairingly. "Lady-" he coughed. "-Calassë, listen." Ainion spluttered, his voice growing weak. His eyes were wide and bright. "My daughter-"

"What of Bellethiel?"

"Bellethiel," Ainion echoed, his voice fading as his fist tightened within mine. "Watch over her." I nodded, a wild, grieving nod as tears fell upon Ainion's cheeks. "Take-"

The words he would have spoken, never came, for in the midst of a breath, Ainion was gone. The light flew from his eyes, and his fist fell from mine.

"A-Ainion?" I whispered, hoping, praying for a reply that never came. "No." A ragged breath choked my lungs, and I bent my head, soft sobs shaking me as I wept for my dead General - and friend.

* * *

******Chapter thirty-two. Again, I really hate scenes with killing, but I think I did this justice. Calassë has to cope with the harshness of war, and I wanted this to come across clearly.**

******Many thanks to **Equoise**, who took the time to review. Merci, mon ami!**

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**Please review! They keep me going!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	33. Mournful Farewell

**Chapter thirty-three**

I watched with forlorn eyes from the edge of the gathering as the bearers of Ainion's body set the bier upon which the General's body lay, within a narrow tomb dug between the roots of a towering oak. The funeral procession had not been long, but I was exhausted. Qui-Gon stood near, his arm slipped about my waist to support me, in much the same way that D'Artagnan held up Raina, who was sagged within the Captain's arms.

Both she and her daughter, as well as all the women of the company, wore sombre gowns that seemed to throb through Yean. But unlike her mother, Bellethiel remained unveiled, her dark hair unbound, and falling to her waist, her wide shimmering eyes dropping tear after tear as she stood beside D'Artagnan and her mother, who had hidden her face behind dark lace mantilla, to conceal her grief for her lost lover. But I could still see her shining, tear filled eyes, beautiful and terrible in their grief, and hear her sobs, quiet though they were.

I shuddered and bowed my head, wishing I could not hear it. At the movement, Qui-Gon's arm tightened about me, and he drew me closer to him, tipping his head to press a soft kiss against my brow.

"I am here, Calassë," he murmured against my hair. "Right here." And I shrank closer to him, letting his embrace envelope me, grateful for his presence.

When a soft clatter of stones met my ears, I forced myself to look were being laid over the entrance to the tomb by the sombre faced men who had borne his body here, and were slowly covering the dark opening through which I could see Ainion, his long bow clutched within still hands, and his sword and quiver lain beside him.

"No-"

The soft word came breaking from Raina's lips, as she tore herself away from D'Artagnan, and dropped to her knees before her husband's tomb, stretching her hands out helplessly as if to bid him return. But at last the entrance was covered, and as the last stone was place, an elder began to sing.

After a moment, Padmé's voice joined in. And slowly, other voices began to join as the women of the company began to add their voices to the song. Raina remained upon her knees before the tomb of her beloved, and continued to weep, but Bellethiel's voice at last rose up, tremulous, yet brave and strong to join in. And this at last gave me the courage to draw away from Qui-Gon's sheltering embrace. Closing my eyes, I drew in a breath and lifted my face up, allowing my own voice to weave into those of the others.

Rising and falling as a soft breeze, and ever weaving through the air about us, rose our mournful song of farewell to the fallen hero. Long the haunting, echoing notes lasted, as the light of the day slowly faded. Our voices faded at last, with the day that had gone, and I drew in a breath, listening to the silence that grew as the lament faded away into silence.

"Calassë, come." I felt Qui-Gon's firm hands upon my shoulders, and felt his soft breath brush my ear. "You are weary. You must rest."

I did not resist as I allowed Qui-Gon to guide me away. But as he led me from the glade with the others, I turned my head. Raina had lain down upon the earth beside the grave of her love, one hand resting upon the stones that had sealed his tomb as if she wished to pull them aside, but lacked the strength to do so. How pale she was!

"Mother," Bellethiel murmured softly, but Raina did little to acknowledge her daughter's pleading, but glance up at her child with eyes that grieved not only for her dead husband, but in sympathy for her child as well.

"Go with Lady Calassë, my dear one," Raina murmured, her voice soft. "Let her care for you. Do not wait for me."

Bellethiel did not heed her mother's words, and stepped forward, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "But mother-"

"Take her away from here, Calassë," Raina ordered, turning her face away from her daughter.

"Yes, my friend," I answered quietly as I came forward, and gently drew Bellethiel's hand into my own. "Come, little one."

"We can't leave my mother here, alone," Bellethiel protested weakly between her tears as I drew her away from the tomb where her mother knelt, willingly bearing much of her weight as her feet stumbled, too weak to bear her up any more.

"I will come back for her later, Bellethiel," I assured her. "First, though, I will see to your needs."

"My lady," the child sighed, and as her tears began to come more freely. I paused, and turned to her, drawing her close as she began to weep.

"Calassë, come," Qui-Gon urged gently, and I came back to myself, looking up at Qui-Gon as he scooped the weeping child into one arm and held out the other for me.

"Yes," I replied, swallowing at a hardened lump that had formed within my throat as I leaned heavily against his arm, and allowed him to follow the pathway that wove away through the trees, back toward the lights of the temple.

* * *

******Chapter thirty-three. I'm really sorry if this chapter and the next one upsets anyone. **

******Check out my facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

**Please review! They keep me going!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	34. Pain, Suffering, Death

**Chapter thirty-four**

Bellethiel sighed between the ragged breaths that were all that remained of her tears as she lay heavily in Qui-Gon's arms as we stood in her moonlit room, and bent her head into her hands. Another ragged breath racked her frame, reminding both Qui-Gon and myself, of how exhausted she was.

"You need your sleep, little one," I whispered, and she sighed and nodded, brushing again at the tears that coursed her cheeks. Gently, Qui-Gon lowered her unresisting, nearly limp form to the softness of her bed before drawing his arms away from her, and straightened again, drawing in a calming breath, and shifting his gaze to her slippered feet.

"Her sleep will be more restful, if her feet are bare," He murmured. I nodded and bent, my fingers slipping over her ankle. Deftly, I drew her first velvet slipper of inky black from her foot. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and I drew her second slipper away in my hand, glancing upward toward her face. She already slept, tears still spilling one by one from her eyes as she slept.

"Sleep well, youngling. The grief that will find you again upon your waking, will come too soon," Qui-Gon murmured, finding the silken coverlet at the end of her bed, and drawing it over her.

"I will see to her mother," I said softly before I turned away, stepping softly out of her room, and made my way down the corridor and into the grounds.

* * *

The night was cool and dark, though my path was lit from overhead by the gentle silver stars and moon that marked my path. There would be no celebration feast, since one of our number had fallen, killed by a mere boy. My stomach twisted. The path I followed darkened, for the moon and stars were hidden behind a cloud. It dipped downward sharply, passing through the shadows of aged oak and beeches, until I saw the first glimmers of water ahead, and knew that I was drawing near to Ainion's tomb where Raina still kept her vigil. Sure enough, as I stepped past the last tree, I saw her there, a faint beam of moonlight resting upon her where she lay on the slope of ground beneath where her love had been lain.

"My friend, come," I said softly, drawing near to her. "The night is far gone, and Bellethiel will worry."

Raina made no move to acknowledge my presence, nor to dismiss me. She lay still and silent.

"Raina?" I said again, my voice all but a breath upon the air. Drawing near to her, I knelt, and reached out, placing my hand over hers where it rested upon the stones that sealed the tomb of her love. It was stiff and unresponsive; ice to the touch. Rapidly, I pulled my hand back, a sharp breath of horror breaking from my lips.

"She is gone."

A voice behind me, sad and resigned, brought my head sharply around, and I saw D'Artagnan standing there, as if he had followed a few steps behind me, and had been watching me, silent and morose. I stared hard at him, seeing in his eyes sadness, but not horror at something unlooked for, and unexpected.

"She has joined Ainion," he said quietly, coming a step nearer. "Her time is finished."

"Did you know this would happen?" I blurted, my voice sounding harsh and demanding in the quiet of the still night.

"I suspected it, my lady," he admitted, drawing in a small sigh.

"Why did you say nothing then, Captain?" I snapped. "Why did you allow us to leave her behind? Were I to have known this would happen, I would not have left her alone!"

"She did not wish to come with us-"

"We could have _forced_ her to come back with us! To return with her daughter, with others who care for her! Bellethiel would have returned to her mother a will to live-"

"Raina was determined to join him. Nothing would have prevented her, my lady," D'Artagnan murmured in a quiet voice. He drew near to me, and placed a hand upon my stiffened shoulder. "Whether here, or at her daughter's side, her heart would have beaten its last."

"But she was alone!" I choked angrily.

"No," he answered, and through his sadness, a soft smile shone. "She was not alone. He came for her. They have gone now, to the Blessed Realm of Nyx, together."

"But what will I tell Bellethiel?" I muttered, pleadingly, "She is only a child!"

"What you must tell her, tell her gently. She will take it best, coming from you. And she will need you now, more than she ever has."

* * *

On Coruscant, Yoda sat in deep meditation, his brow wrinkled in concentration as he sought peace. Out of nowhere, emotions and thoughts slammed into him. Sparks, colours, sounds...roaring in his ears. Yoda immersed himself in the bubble of confusion.

_I feel a twinge of fear as I creep along a narrow path woven through the high branches of the trees. It was a path that was little more than thick branches twisted along the natural planes of their growth following one another in succession as each branch's tapering boughs wove into the leafing tendrils of another, sturdy enough to support the weight of the light footed warriors. One hand grasps at smaller branches above me for support while I clutch my bow tightly in a sweaty fist. I pause, my hand clutching a nearby branch for support as I gaze down at two dark shapes through the tree branches where they scurry about upon the ground, half hidden by shadow. They are alone, it appears, and would be easy targets-_

Yoda pushed the feeling aside, plunging in deeply again.

_The men that are in the temple are few, I know this, but they will be ready within the hour. I will go fight with them; no-one will say that any of my House and blood are weak or cowardly. The Captain and Qui-Gon both protest at my plans, but I silence them with a flash of temper. They don't understand, I have no choice. If I refuse to fight, I give up everything my people and my family fought so hard to keep. Qui-Gon has that look in his eye again, and I warn him before stalking away. I feel guilty for snapping at people who only want to protect me, but I am sick of being treated like a delicate doll. I fight-_

Yoda reached out with his mind again, pulling out another feeling.

_I watch with forlorn eyes from the edge of the gathering as the bearers of Ainion's body set the bier upon which the General's body lay, within a narrow tomb dug between the roots of a towering oak. The funeral procession wasn't long, but I am exhausted. Qui-Gon stands near, his arm around my waist to support me, in much the same way that D'Artagnan holds up Raina, who sags within the Captain's arms. Raina, Raina, I robbed you of your husband. I hope she will forgive me, but now isn't the time for selfishness. I turn my face into Qui-Gon's chest-_

The feeling was torn away from Yoda before he could get any farther and the door slid open, allowing Mace Windu to enter. He sat opposite Yoda, watching with curious brown eyes that widened when they met Yoda's mournful gaze.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. Yoda stored the strong feelings and memories deep within his mind before he answered.

"Pain...suffering...death, I feel," he answered,just as quietly. Mace looked away, his eyes shutting momentarily, before his gaze darted back. "Something has happened. Young Princess is in pain...terrible pain."

* * *

******Chapter thirty-four. I'm really sorry if this chapter upset anyone. Well, Raina is gone...I'm really sad about that...**

******Check out my facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

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**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	35. Kind Words?

**Chapter thirty-five**

I walked slowly; within one hand, I held my quiver by one belt strap, my hand hanging low at my side, the loose belts dragging over the soft earth of the path beneath my feet, and trailing behind me. I did not care. Occasionally, I would lift the quiver, laden with its weapons, and study the plaited vines embossed upon the leather. How excited I had been, when Father had first given it to me. How proud to know that he thought me capable and independent. I had believed myself wise, and mature, proud of my new gifts, and excited and eager to think that one day I could use them. But now I had. I had seen death, of my own people. One moment Ainion had been alive, guiding me through the trees, telling me of his daughter as we went, and the next, he was dead, killed by the arrow that had been meant for me.

"Lady Calassë?"

Against my will, I looked up, dreading the face I would see, for I had recognized his voice. D'Artagnan stood near, just off the path, and I absently wondered if he had been trailing me.

"Captain," I answered wearily, drawing to a reluctant stop, wishing I could turn and flee from his presence. He had been Ainion's friend. And he knew that it was because of me that he had died. "Have you told your troops that it was my fault?"

"Your fault? What could be your fault, my lady?"

I sighed, dropping my eyes away from his. His gaze was intense. Almost painful.

"Ainion is dead because of me, and thus, Raina as well," I said bitterly. "It's my fault, and you know it, or you are a fool."

He didn't seem to take offence at my words, and only drew ever closer.

"The men know of all that happened. They don't blame you. Nor do I."

I sensed his thoughts had carried elsewhere for a moment, before I once again felt the pressure of his gaze. D'Artagnan's words grew soft and warm, and he drew closer as he spoke, close enough that he could reach out and touch me, which, to my chagrin, he did, resting one hand softly upon my shoulder.

"I grieve for the loss of Ainion as well as his wife. But I am glad, my lady, that you yet live."

I bit my lip softly, keeping my eyes on the ground.

"I think that perhaps your words are misplaced," I muttered, ever conscious of his hand upon my shoulder, warm through the thick cloth of my gown and cloak. Turning away from him, I started away, but had made only a few steps before he darted in front of me again, halting my progress.

"They are not, my lady," D'Artagnan replied, his eyes penitent. I drew in a quick breath, seeing the deep pleading in his eyes. "Your worth, my lady, is greater than the very stars."

I drew in a quick breath, and glanced away again, my jaw clenched. What was he trying to gain? How could I, a mere daughter of Arryn, be of greater worth than the stars Nyx made?

"Those are high words, and spoken in haste," I replied finally. "For only one of the Blessed Few could be of greater worth than the creations of Nyx's making."

With a smile that I meant as a dismissal, I edged past D'Artagnan, watching him all the while until at last, I was beyond him. Then with a nod, I turned away from him and continued up the path. I could hear voices, muted and soft, ahead.

"But as wise as Nyx is," he protested, his voice almost desperate, "then surely she sees your greatness, as do I, and I do not doubt that she would value you above her own stars."

I stopped again, biting back a sigh of exasperation.

"She is a Goddess, who is of greater beauty than I could ever dream," I murmured, turning again to face D'Artagnan who watched me with such a soft gaze, that almost against my will, a warmth softened my heart, smoothing away the hard edge it had gained since Ainion's death. "Of what value am I," I asked, my voice soft and quiet, "a mere child, in her eyes?"

"You are of great value to me."

At these words, so tremulous and soft, my heart skipped a beat, and I studied D'Artagnan for a long moment, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, and the pleading.

"Of greater value than your dear friend, Ainion? I doubt that. For you barely know me, yet you have known him, all your life. Perhaps you should go seek his daughter out. It has been less than a week since she lost her parents. Doubtless, she needs you."

At these words, D'Artagnan's eyes fell, his face suddenly unsure. For a moment, I wondered if I had hurt him with my words, but I was not given the time to discover whether this was so, for behind me, came the soft, nearly inaudible sound of footsteps.

"Calassë?"

I turned at the familiar, gentle tones of Qui-Gon's voice, and managed a smile for him as he stood before me on the trail, his eyes flashing back and forth between myself and D'Artagnan.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes also falling to the quiver hanging at my side, and almost forgotten.

"Yes, Qui-Gon, I'm fine," I answered, wondering at the look Qui-Gon flashed over my shoulder at D'Artagnan.

"There is a message from Coruscant for you. Is there anything you have to finish here?" he asked. He drew a step closer, gathered my quiver up into his own hands, and offered me his arm. I took it readily, grateful for the strength his touch seemed to lend to me, yet I turned one last time, and glanced back at D'Artagnan.

"Thank you, Captain, for your kind words. We will meet again soon, for I hear you ride to Gorvahlt."

"Indeed I do," he returned with a bow. "Farewell, Lady Calassë."

"Farewell, Captain."

* * *

**Chapter thirty-five. Before anyone gets any ideas, it's not what you think it is! Re-think before you judge! Kudos to **Equoise** for reviewing! Merci, mon ami!**

**Check out my facebook for my pictures: **www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

**Please review! They keep me going!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	36. Sinister Discussions

**Chapter thirty-six**

A soft tapping noise filled the currently empty room as she continued tossing a small emerald in the air, catching it with a pat in her palm. Lounging lazily in her chair, her eyes hooded and dark, her hair pulled back and away from her face in a clasp of purple stones, she looked every inch the seductress Thantos knew her to be.

Thantos himself watched her with an amused smirk as he leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed and his head turned towards the floor, only his eyes any indication that he was paying attention to what was going on around him at all.

"You wouldn't be nervous, would you, my dear?" He smirked. "Mighty lady of Arryn that you are?"

The woman eyed him with a fixated glare, tossing her head and causing her hair to swish through the air and then slither down her shoulders sensually as the strands settled into place again.

"It would be good for you to remember that you are here only thanks to my connections, Thantos…and if you annoy me any more, I shall betray you without a second thought."

A sinister chuckle radiated from the dark-haired man.

"You wouldn't betray me yet, I don't think, because your revenge hasn't been sated yet."

"Hn," she huffed and shifted in her seat, still continuing to play with the jade stone, "For all I know you have lied to me about that too. As of yet, nothing has been accomplished, and that slut is still strutting around, free as a bird."

"You don't trust me?"

"Not in the least."

"Then you're wiser than I thought. But never fear, your time for revenge will arrive soon enough, and then you'll be thanking me and feeling that this incredible burden," his voice was laced with sarcasm, "Was worth it."

"It is a burden to protect and vouch for someone like you," she replied crisply. "After all, you're a wanted man."

"Who has managed to evade capture for nearly five years."

"Thanks to me, I might add. No-one else would bother helping you, but I did. Risking my life to do so." She eyed Thantos carefully. "It's obvious you're nothing but trouble."

"Not to you, dear woman…only to a particular princess. And perhaps her Jedi lover too, since it was him who took her away from me in the first place."

"And you think that by kidnapping the princess and killing her Jedi, you're not going to bring chaos to the country?" She laughed cruelly at him, shook her head and glanced away. "Not likely…if the heir disappears, chaos will most surely follow."

"I didn't know you put so much stock in the rule of the princess."

She shrugged elegantly.

"I don't…at least, not in the sense you're thinking. But I do recognize that, without a King or Queen, Arryn would be plagued by civil war once more, like it was before. And I, for one, don't particularly like war…it's positively _awful_ for the economy."

Thantos laughed.

"You certainly are a fickle woman, that's for sure."

"Indeed I am, because I'm giving you shelter, a place in my home and a way to snatch your precious princess once more. After all, only a lady close to the little slut could offer you such an opportunity." She narrowed her eyes. "But I expect to be rewarded, Thantos."

The warning was clear; she had taken him in three weeks ago, instead of him hopping from one star-system to another on his own, and without the means or funds to do so. And he had found her a ruthless woman who only did things to suit her own interests, which meant that, in this case, she would give him food and shelter and an opportunity, so long as he provided her with the promised reward.

"You will be, my dear," he assured her.

* * *

******Chapter thirty-six. Oh dear, Thantos is up to his old tricks again! And evil wench isn't exactly restraining him, is she?**

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**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	37. Arrival at Sanctus

**Chapter thirty-seven**

We were moving along down the road in the direction of Sanctus, where we were expected to arrive at any time. In fact, some of the children, to have fun, had placed bets on who could spot the shining walls of the city first, and the game was so contagious that even I had bet two gold coins that she could do it, much to Cybele's (who'd finally caught up with us) chagrin.

"That's so humiliating, my lady," she commented from where she sat astride her black horse, her skirts of dark green satin falling down over her legs and completely obscuring her feet as she rode side-saddle. "You shouldn't gamble your money with the likes of them, especially when the chances of your winning are so slim."

"That's why it's called a bet, Cybele," I reminded her, trying to hide my discomfort in the fact that we were riding on either side of Qui-Gon, his mouth pressed into a grim line. "No one knows who will win. Besides, you're always betting on cards."

Cybele lifted her chin slightly and stared ahead as she spoke. "I don't disapprove of gambling once in a while, I think it's quite healthy. What I do disapprove of is gambling on stupid things. If you do that too often, you'll soon be out of money."

"I would prefer, Cybele, if you didn't lecture me as though I was still a youngling," I said icily.

"Could you both please stop talking as though I'm not right here?" Qui-Gon said pointedly, yet calmly. I laughed lightly and touched his arm.

"Forgive us, Master Jinn, we weren't thinking."

* * *

The city of Sanctus was indeed awe-inspiring. It had the feeling that it was ancient, that many ghosts haunted its hallways. But more then that, it had the feeling of power, as though to say that it could withstand anything if it had already managed to withstand the passing of time.

The palace stood four stories high and was made out of marble and glass. The moment one entered through the large golden gates, one was greeted on all sides by roses and blossoming sounded, announcing their presence, and immediately the large doors of the palace were thrown open and out marched two rows of knights. The knights marched out in impressive fashion, stopping an equal distance apart and leaving a long, wide aisle where two young boys appeared with a gold cloth that they rolled out to cover the ground, a third tiny girl following behind scattering petals of all colours Clearly this was a ceremony that had been rehearsed many times. Following the girl came several lavishly dressed men, their fingers and clothes adorned with jewels. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the trumpets sounded again, in a slightly different tune, and all the knights instantly stood at attention. A solitary man appeared. He wore a robe of white outlined in blue. His stride was confident, making his already tall frame and broad shoulders seem gigantic, and Padmé couldn't help but allow her mouth to fall open slightly in awe.

He was incredibly handsome, with long brown hair that was pulled into a braid, his dark eyes sharp and intelligent, peering out of a chiselled face set off by slightly tan skin. And even though his uniform was somewhat loose, she could almost envision in my mind the corded muscles contracting as he walked. Indeed, he looked every inch a King. It was hard to believe he was supposed to be Calassë's suppliant.

"Lady Calassë," the man said, sweeping wide with his arm to gesture towards the palace behind him, "I welcome you to Sanctus. It is an honour to have you among us again."

Calassë nodded.

"Thank you, Thalion," she murmured in acknowledgement, taking his offered hand and sliding from her horse with as much grace as she could, her skirts swaying seductively. The moment her feet touched the ground everyone in the courtyard, including the knights, made an elegant bow, only rising when Thalion did. The man smiled, and Padmé couldn't help but notice how perfect his teeth were. Thalion looked around with a composed expression before his eyes came to rest on Qui-Gon, one of his eyebrows rising slightly, though otherwise he showed no inclination towards a reaction.

"These must be your companions…am I right?"

"Indeed," Calassë agreed, gesturing as Qui-Gon dismounted and stood beside her, "May I present Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Thalion. Qui-Gon, this is Lord Thalion."

Qui-Gon bowed in respect until he rose, his eyes challenging, posture erect, and his chin proudly in the air.

"Pleased to meet you," he commented lightly. Thalion bowed before looking him square in the eye.

"The same to you." Then, in a surprise action, the young King turned his gaze directly on Padmé, who shifted about uncomfortably in her seat, her body heating up under his handsome stare. "And who is this?"

"This is Padmé Amidala," Calassë said with a smile, "A senator and former Queen of Naboo."

Padmé thought he would be satisfied with that, but instead he walked over to her horse and, in a surprise action, offered her his hand. She stared at it, as though she couldn't quite fathom the concept that this fine specimen of male was offering her assistance. When she didn't respond for several seconds, Thalion raised an eyebrow.

"May I help you down from your horse, my lady?"

"What?" Padmé blinked back to the present moment. "Oh, yes, of course Your Grace."

A furious blush now painted her cheeks, and Padmé saw, out of the corner of her eye, Calassë hiding a smile behind her hand. But Thalion looked kind as he helped her down, so much so that Padmé thought she even glimpsed a slight twinkle of amusement in his dark, mysterious eyes as her feet touched the ground, and suddenly that was all that mattered.

By Nyx, he had been blessed in appearance. She wondered exactly how many women had fallen prey to his charm, considering the fact that she was already trembling in his presence.

A slight jingle resounded from a small pouch at her waist as her feet touched the ground, and she couldn't help but smile slightly in triumph. _She_ had won the bet from earlier by spotting the castle first, and was now five gold coins richer. Padmé curtsied, though hers was not nearly as deep nor as elegant as Calassë's had been, before rising stiffly and gazing at him steadily, no hidden motive behind her look. No challenge. No flirtation. Just a simple, honest stare.

"We are honoured to have you here at court, Lady Padmé," Thalion murmured as he bowed, though this time he actually lightly brushed his lips against her hand. Padmé felt her cheeks flame. He hadn't done _that_ for Calassë!

"The…um…the honour is mine, Your Grace," she answered quietly, to which he chuckled, rising once more to his full height, towering over, surprising her again as he looped her arm through his and started walking back towards Qui-Gon and Calassë, who both had surprised looks on their faces. Thalion once more came to the side of Calassë and nodded, his mouth curved up into a slight smirk.

"Princess, you never told me how beautiful your new friend is. I'm disappointed I have not heard more of her."

"I do apologise," Calassë replied easily, "I was under the impression you enjoyed surprises."

"Touché." He glanced at Padmé and seemed to suddenly think of something. "I know what I should like. I should like very much for Lady Padmé to be my partner in all the dances at the banquets these next few weeks."

A gasp rushed through the crowd like a unified hiss of surprise, and even Padmé felt her eyes open wide in shock. What had he said? Surely she had not understood him correctly.

"Begging your pardon," she suddenly interjected sweetly, causing everyone to once more sweep their gazes in her direction, "But I believe it is my choice who I do and do not dance with." Calassë was grinning at her now, though she tried desperately to ignore it…tried desperately to stop a grin of her own forming. Thalion smirked in amusement.

"But of course, my lady. Forgive me for being so rude as to go over your head with my requests," he replied. "And perhaps you would be interested in allowing me to show you Sanctus during your stay? I believe you will find it quite to your liking."

Padmé sighed. "I find many places to my liking, my lord, however nothing can compare with my home." Realizing how that sounded, she added, "But of course, I'm sure Sanctus is lovely."

Thalion waved her last comment aside.

"Don't feel the need to cover your honesty with petty words, Lady Padmé." He pulled her with him back towards the palace, the rest of the court taking that as a sign that they could dismount. Once they were a safe distance from the main crowds, the young lord glanced at her again and smiled. "I prefer you sincere."

Padmé blushed profusely yet again, but this time with pleasure. Never before had she actually been praised for being honest. It felt strangely…nice.

* * *

******Chapter thirty-seven. Ooh, Thalion has appeared and is knocking the socks off Padmé!**

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	38. Darling Little Thing

**Chapter thirty-seven**

"I'm scared," Bellethiel said quietly. I glanced up from my book at her in surprise, as she sat curled up on the window seat.

"Why?" I asked curiously, "You know no-one here will harm you."

"Oh, I know," she said. "But I'm scared of what I'm supposed to do, now that Mother and Father are gone. I miss them so much."

I shut my eyes briefly and shut my book, hugging it to my breast gently before standing to go over to the little hunched figure by the window. Hesitantly, I put a hand on her shoulder. I was selfish, I realised, in pitying only myself and my own pain. Bellethiel had lost Mother and Father in one swoop, and not even thirty yet. I was far older when I had lost my family.

"You'll be fine," I murmured gently, "Your parents entrusted you to me, and by Nyx, I'm going to make sure I do them proud and not dishonour their sacrifice."

It was just then that Daerwen entered the room. She was very tall and dull, and respectable and plain. She had murky green eyes, and a small smile playing on her lips. It spread itself into a very large smile when her eyes landed on Bellethiel, who stood quietly, with her eyes fixed upon Daerwen's face.

"Bellethiel, this is Daerwen," I said quietly as the child's hand clutched my sleeve, "She's the head housemaid, and she makes sure that everyone is happy and comfortable."

"It will be a great privilege to have charge of such a beautiful and promising child, my lady," she said, taking Bellethiel's other hand and stroking it. "I was told of her unusual cleverness. A clever child is a great treasure."

"Why does she say I am a beautiful child?" Bellethiel asked, tugging her hand away from Daerwen. "I am not beautiful at all. My friend, Melda, is beautiful. She has dimples and rose-coloured cheeks, and long hair the colour of copper. I have plain brown hair and odd eyes; besides which, I am a thin child and not fair in the least. I am one of the ugliest children I ever saw. She is beginning by telling a story."

Daerwen glanced at me, her mouth hanging open. I was struggling not to laugh at Bellethiel's peculiar statement. She was mistaken, however, in thinking she was an ugly child. She was not in the least like her friend Melda, who had been the undisputed beauty of the children as we travelled, but she had a charm of her own. She was a slim, supple creature, rather tall for her age, and had an intense, attractive little face. Her hair was heavy and dark brown and only curled at the tips. Her eyes were indeed odd, it was true, the same rare, rose-quartz colour Raina's had been; but they were big, wonderful eyes with long, black lashes, and though she herself did not like the colour of them, many other people did.

She stood near me and listened while Daerwen and I talked. Bellethiel was to be treated as if she were a Princess of the Blood. She was to have a pretty bedroom and sitting room of her own; she was to have a pony and a carriage, a maid and a tutor when she was older.

"I'm not in the least anxious about her education," I said, with a small smile, as I lightly patted the small hand that hung onto my sleeve. "I suspect the difficulty will be to keep her from learning too fast and too much. She's always reading books. She is always looking for new books to devour, and she wants grown-up books - great, big, fat ones - Quenya and the Common Tongue, as well as Sindarin - history and mythology and poets. When she reads too much and I am busy, distract her from her books. Take her to ride her pony in the meadow or go out and buy a new doll."

"Miss Calassë," Bellethiel said clearly, "you see, if I went out and bought a new doll every few days, I should have more than I could be fond of. I will only need Lalaith*."

"Who is Lalaith?" Daerwen inquired. Bellethiel's mysterious eyes looked very serious and soft as she answered.

"She is a doll I haven't got yet," she said. "She is a doll my parents promised to me. We are going out together to find her, Miss Calassë and I. I have called her Lalaith. She is going to be my friend now my parents' are gone. I want her to talk to about them."

Daerwen's large smile became very flattering indeed.

"What an original child!" she said. "What a darling little thing!"

"Yes," I replied softly, glancing down at the small child. "She is a darling, isn't she?"

* * *

******Chapter thirty-eight. Not really what I had in mind, but I wanted the two girls to start bonding. After all, our princess is now her new mother, so to speak. She had to start taking care of her eventually!**

******Lalaith=means laughter**

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	39. Always There

**Chapter thirty-nine**

I stood, studying myself in the polished glass of the mirror, Cybele's face, and Daerwen's beaming as their reflections met mine in the mirror, adding their final touches to my gown, or to my hair. Behind me, Padmé sat upon the bed, watching, her eyes alight with curiosity and delight. Bellethiel, seated next to her, held upon her lap a single silken pillow, and upon that, something that glimmered in the light of the lamps. Something delicate and fair, but which I had not caught a clear look at yet. I caught the young girl's eye in the mirror, and smiled. Bellethiel smiled back before she dropped her eyes back onto her beloved Lalaith, who sat serenely beside her. My smile grew, remembering just how long it took for us to _find _her.

* * *

_"I want her to look as if she wasn't a doll really," Bellethiel said calmly, her hand under her chin as we walked towards the artists' wing of the palace. "I want her to look as if she listens when I talk to her. The trouble with dolls, you see, is that they never seem to hear." _

_So we looked at big ones and little ones, with green eyes and blue; brown curls and golden braids, dressed and undressed. After a number of disappointments, we decided to walk and look in at the open doors of the studios. We had passed two or three without even going in, when, as we were approaching one of the smaller ones, Bellethiel suddenly started and clutched my arm._

_"Miss Calassë!" she cried. "There is Lalaith!"_

_A flush had risen to her face and there was an expression in her strange rose eyes as if she had just recognized someone she was fond of._

_"She is actually waiting there for us!" she said. "I knew her the minute I saw her, so perhaps she knew me, too."_

_Perhaps she had. She had an intelligent expression in her eyes when Bellethiel took her in her arms. She was a large doll, but not too large to carry about easily; she had naturally curling ebony hair, which hung like a mantle about her, and her eyes were a deep, clear, ivory, with soft, thick eyelashes which were real, not mere painted lines._

_"Miss Calassë," she said, looking into my face as she held Lalaith on her knee, "Of course, this is Lalaith."_

_So Lalaith was purchased and measured for a wardrobe as grand as Bellethiel's own. She had lace, velvet and silk gowns, cloaks, beautiful lace-trimmed shifts, gloves, handkerchiefs and furs._

_"Thank you, Miss Calassë," Bellethiel beamed, hugging Lalaith tightly to her. "You can't imagine how happy I am."_

* * *

My eyes returned to my own reflection.

My hair hung in a twisted, glimmering rope against my neck, tucked with many small diamonds, and twined in a delicate whorl that was gathered to my head in a single comb of glimmering silver.

I blushed when I thought of the quiet exchange between myself and Cybele not many minutes before as the ever faithful handmaiden was gathering up my hair into the delicate twist. The effect was beautiful, I had said, reluctant to hurt her feelings, but I preferred my hair to be unbound.

To this, Padmé had smiled, a playful, teasing smile, and had answered that a certain Jedi would mayhap have the chance to see my hair loose, if we were alone, and he would have the pleasure of removing the silver comb that held it all in place. I had fallen silent, my cheeks scarlet, as my mind conjured up the all too pleasing image.

My hand shook slightly as I touched my fingers to the smooth fabric of the gown, my fingers sliding slowly from the cloth of the dress to the silver chain of the small diamond necklace Lindariel had given me not long before I had departed for Yean. The jewelled metal was cool against my skin. The silk shimmered and sparkled as the shimmering silvery threads caught the light of the candles.

Small, delicate clasps of silver gathered the cloth at my shoulders where it tumbled down my arms in glimmering swathes, like the shimmering wings of a bird. The throat of the gown, embroidered with silver threads, scooped low, exposing the soft ridges of my collar bones, and clung about my body. The cloth clung smoothly to my hips where a loose belt hung threaded through with strands of silver. Beneath this, the skirt cascaded down my legs in folds of silvery blue. Beneath all this, simple light-grey slippers graced my feet, soft and comfortable.

"You are beautiful, my lady," Daerwen murmured as she tucked one last jewel into my hair and stood back. The lady, adorned in a flowing silken gown of light grey, stepped back to join Cybele who wore a soft gown of ruby-coloured red. Bellethiel stood then, the soft pink gown shimmering as she moved, while Padmé adjusted her skirts of leaf green.

"Thank you," I sighed softly, "But I admit, I am very nervous."

"There is no need," Daerwen murmured, her voice pleased. "You are presenting yourself to the lords and ladies of the realm. You are their princess. There is nothing to fear."

"I know," I murmured, my voice soft and thoughtful as Cybele fastened a silver clasp to the fabric at my shoulder. "But..I don't know...it's been so long. I half-thought that this day would never come."

I met the gentle gaze of Padmé in the mirror and my heart warmed at the understanding smile upon her face.

"There, I am finished," Cybele announced, stepping back from me and making way as Bellethiel moved forward, lifting a glimmering circlet of silver from the small pillow, a delicate diamond hanging from the fore of the diadem to match the necklace at my breast.

"Here," Cybele purred, taking the circlet from the smiling youngling's hands, and carefully tucking the shimmering, circlet into my hair, the dangling pearl resting in the centre of my brow.

"You're lovely, Calassë," Padmé murmured.

"Thank you," I said, warmed by her admiration. I sighed, and met Daerwen's gaze in the mirror. "Would that my my family could have been here today."

"But they are here," Bellethiel murmured. "Can you not feel their presence?"

At her words, I grew still, as the other women did, and I dropped my eyes, listening to the silence. _Mother? Papa? Lindariel_? I questioned in my mind. _Are you here? As she said?_

And then, in that moment, I felt a presence at my side, a firm hand on my left shoulder, a soft one on my right, and a third hand touching my own. So real, that I was almost surprise when I glanced up into the mirror, and did not see my family standing around me in the mirror's surface.

_Need you ask, young one?_ A rich, strong voice seemed to laugh within my mind.

_We are here, Calassë. _

_We will **always** be here, little brook._

"Yes," I nodded. Bellethiel smiled, a knowing look in her eye as if she knew of the silent exchange between myself and my departed kin. "You're right, young one. They are."

"Come," Cybele said briskly. "Let us take you to the lords."

* * *

******Chapter thirty-nine. Okay, I am soooo sorry I took so long to update this...I kind of lost my muse for a while there. Anyway, onto a slightly more serious issue. **

******Some rude person PMed me, telling me that what I was doing had nothing to do with the SW universe, and that I should, in basic English, scrap the story and fizz off. Well, dearie, if you have a problem with my story, then just don't read it. Clearly, this person was a flamer, and I just can't STAND people who flame because they themselves can't write. I am taking this story at my own pace, and I'm not changing it to please some egotistical mother pucker. The motto of this site is to 'Unleash the Imagination', not 'Listen to some people who love berating people who can actually write and totally ruin someone's confidence as a writer.' Breathe. Right.**

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	40. At the Ball

**Chapter forty**

As Calassë and her little group appeared in the dining hall, several pairs of eyes turned Padmé's way, along with many new ones, and she had to resist the urge to blush. She really did feel beautiful. Thalion was at her side instantly, sending other men meaningful stares that said 'this one is mine', to which they all responded by looking away.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear, and she beamed in pride, raising her chin slightly higher.

"Thank you, my lord."

She glanced at his own pristine white shirt, loosely tucked in at his waist, his black pants and shoes shining, the spitting image of cleanliness. He was clean-shaven, his face smooth, and his eyes sparkled under the lights of the candles. Padmé grinned.

"You don't look so bad yourself."

He laughed at that and led her to her place, near the front of the table, to sit and eat, but that also meant Padmé was near him. All barriers between the two were gone, so that her right hand, if she wasn't careful, could easily bump into his left.

"Thank you,my lord."

"It's no problem, Padmé."

For some reason, her body gave a tingling jolt as she heard her name roll off his tongue, and Padmé quickly looked away, trying to find something interesting about her empty plate sitting before her. But she could still feel his penetrating eyes staring at her, and it was like fighting back an avalanche keeping her eyes directed somewhere else. Why, she asked silently, why had Calassë given her _this_ chair? Thankfully, servants appeared just as she was losing the battle with herself, placing a bowl of soup before her and giving her a real reason to focus on something other than the enchanting lord beside her. She felt his gaze lift from her as well, and knew he was probably eating at this point too.

* * *

The dinner went well, with the entire company bantering playfully back and forth, trading insults, and in the end, laughing about it. Finally, after the servants had cleared away all the dessert dishes, the guests rose to their feet to move to the ballroom for dancing. Once the last guest was inside the large, airy room, the musicians began to play, and couples quickly filled the floor, moving gracefully to the music.

Walking up to her side, Thalion extended his hand, which Padmé happily accepted.

"Would you care to dance?"

"I would be delighted."

* * *

I watched as the flirtatious young lord led Padmé onto the floor, and felt a surge of motherly affection. Of course, as Nimwen, Padmé had been denied the opportunity to attend a ball. Or even dance with a man who wanted her for **her**, not because she resembled someone else.

_She's beautiful, _Mama's voice whispered in my mind. _As beautiful as her mother._

I concealed a smile by taking a sip of wine.

_She is hardly like her original mother, my dear,_ Papa argued.

_The lady Lothriel was beautiful indeed, but also untouchable, and her eyes were as cold as marble! _Lindariel interjected.

_Little Padmé's beautiful in a different way_, Mother persisted, and this time neither Papa, Lindariel nor myself couldn't explain that away, because we all knew it was true. Padmé was warm and gentle and kind, her eyes full of life and the potential to love.

* * *

Frowning in spite of himself, Qui-Gon crossed his arms, and didn't even hear the approach of footsteps until it was too late, and Bellethiel caused him to jump by whispering in his ear.

"Someone on your mind, sir?"

"No, why would you ask that, youngling?" he said, trying to smile.

"Because your eyes haven't left Miss Calassë since she first came into the room," she pointed out with child-like simplicity, as she ran a hand through her beloved Lalaith's curls. "Why do you keep staring at her?" she asked after a moment.

"I'm not."

"If you say so." The two lapsed into silence, which was finally broken when the dance ended and everyone applauded the musicians, who bowed slightly before striking up another, faster song. Qui-Gon watched as Calassë declined a dance from a young hopeful, and motioned for him to ask another lady while she went to sit on a windowsill for the time being.

Once she was alone, he decided to go talk with her, and so Qui-Gon left his corner as subtly as he could, and moved in her direction, sitting beside her silently and not saying a word. She turned and stared at him in surprise, but then looked away, obviously deciding to not even bother asking what he was doing, assuming she wouldn't get an answer.

For his part, Qui-Gon was content to just observe her out of the corner of his eye. The moonlight was filtering through the window in such a way that she seemed to glow, making everything about her look softer, if that was even possible since she always looked so soft and delicate. Her well-defined features were practically glowing, and her eyes sparkled as they followed the dancers on the floor.

"It's a lovely evening," she finally offered, and he nodded, now that he was in her presence unsure of what to say or do, but at the same time recognizing that his silence had probably been making her uncomfortable as well. She smoothed her skirts with her hands, looking at the ground, and he couldn't help but notice how her hands looked so soft when put against the pale colour of her gown. An idea suddenly occurred to her, and Calassë turned to meet Qui-Gon's gaze.

"Would you care to dance, when this song's over?"

"What?" He hadn't been expecting that question, and he stood up, staring at her for several seconds, before finally nodding.

Everyone stared as the future Queen began to dance with a Jedi Knight, and without realizing what was happening, the rest of the dancers formed a circle to watch the pair, leaving Qui-Gon and Calassë as the only couple on the floor.

The song was fast, much faster then the others that had already been played. Or, perhaps it was the fact that her heart was beating faster then it had all night now that she was in the arms of the Jedi Knight. Either way, Calassë was soon breathing hard, and feeling like she was flying as he twirled her from one end of the floor to the other, completely oblivious to the other court members, who were staring at them as though gawking at some incredible sight.

The steps to the waltz were intricate and had them spinning constantly, which meant they had to stare at one another at all times or risk collapsing from dizziness. And for some reason, the fact that they maintained eye contact only added to the sexual tension between them at the moment.

Qui-Gon felt like he was walking on air, holding Calassë's slim but curvaceous body against his own, her scent surrounding him as her hair fell right beneath his chin. She was even more beautiful in his arms then she had been when he'd watched her from afar, and without realizing it, his left hand was slowly pushing her lower back closer to him as his right hand guided her quickly to the pace of the waltz, allowing him to lead her wherever he wanted to go.

Their movements were sharp, as though both meant to expend some incredible amount of reserved energy. As he'd spin her about, Calassë would lean her head back slightly, exposing her neck, and Qui-Gon would almost groan with anticipation. He would pull her back, and Calassë would shiver as she'd feel his hot breath on her ear as she'd lean her head against his chest.

He was so strong, so solid, so incredibly...masculine and handsome. Never had she been more aware of the fact that he was a man as much as she was at that moment.

His sapphire eyes would follow her intensely as she stepped away, leading him now in the middle part of the dance, his own body responding and copying her movements exactly before pulling her back against him again, twirling her about, at one point lifting her entirely off the ground, to which she gasped in surprise. It was the most incredible experience either had known in their entire lives.

The music began to slow down gradually, and the couple drew closer together, twirling slower and slower, until finally, with one last dip, the song ended, and Qui-Gon found himself staring at Calassë's neck, her head back, her eyes closed and her breathing sharp and erotic as he held her head in one hand and her waist in the other to keep her from falling backward. Not even the applause broke the trance they were in as he brought her back up to face him, and Calassë felt her breath catch as she met his eyes, gazing at her with more then just interest in their depths...now she saw fire, and more, raw desire. It caused her to shiver, not in fear, but because what she saw mirrored what was running through her own hot blood at that instant. Thalion whistled, and the shrill noise finally broke the trance-like state they had been in, reminding them that they were currently in front of at least forty other people, causing Calassë to blush.

"Oh," she stammered, "Thank you, Master Jinn."

She was breathing hard, trying to catch her breath, and he was feeling dizzy as he replied, watching her eyes focus on reality once more.

"Of course."

Stepping back, he bowed, trying to clear his head, but his eyes kept drifting back to her, to her violet orbs, and the desire within. Qui-Gon followed Calassë's example and moved back, away from her, back toward the windowsill, never taking his eyes off of her.

* * *

It all made sense now...the reason why I always seemed to be looking for a certain someone in the crowd, and the reason why I always tried to picture any fiancée of mine with brown hair and sapphire eyes. And the reality of the truth caused me whole being to tense in a frantic panic as I felt like a suddenly caged animal desperate for air and freedom.

_No!_ _No!_

But I couldn't deny the fact that for every no that came from my brain, my heart replied with a resounding _yes_, and I felt like I wanted to cry as I realized the hopelessness of the situation I now found myself in.

* * *

******Chapter forty. Finally, a romance-y type of chapter! Celebration!********  
**

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	41. Refuse you Nothing

**Chapter forty-one**

The music ended, and Padmé came up laughing, trying to catch her breath, though the bodice of her dress was making that somewhat difficult. But that didn't matter so long as she was in the arms of the man before her, who was currently looking at her as though she were the most precious, beautiful woman in the galaxy. She wondered how he managed such a look when he had danced with so many women that evening already.

It didn't really matter…not so long as her heart continued to beat so quickly within her breast, her spine tingling from the touch of his fingers as they guided her about the dance floor.

"Well, my Lady Padmé," Thalion gasped, also out of breath, "Shall we have another dance, or sample the wine instead?"

Padmé smiled flirtatiously.

"Perhaps we can do both, my lord? I'm thirsty, but then I'd like to return to the floor."

He threw his head back and laughed at that, a warm, rich sound that caused desire to spring up from a deep well in her stomach.

"Your wish is my command," he finally replied, putting his hand liberally, almost possessively, around her waist and guiding her to the refreshments table where servers were trying to keep up with the demands for goblets of wine.

While standing off to the side, Padmé watched as Calassë's handmaiden, Cybele, move towards her, her hips swaying in a carefully practised manner designed to attract the attention of young, available men. She giggled to herself as she saw it working perfectly.

"What a lovely evening," Cybele finally commented as she stopped at Padmé's side, though she meant to include Thalion in the conversation.

"It is indeed," the man replied boisterously, downing his goblet of wine in two short gulps…very unfit manners for a gentleman. But while Cybele frowned in disapproval, Padmé smiled at his childish behaviour. If he didn't act so, then he wouldn't be the man she was so quickly becoming infatuated with. Finally, after several moments of uncomfortable silence, for Padmé knew the maid did not approve of her interest, Cybele stepped forward and inclined her head slightly.

"Might I borrow my lady for a few moments, my lord? I promise to have her back for the last dance."

He looked at her with a teasing glint in his eye, as though actually considering it, before finally nodding. "Oh, I suppose." And with that and a brief kiss of her hand, he meandered over to speak with another group of young women, who were more then happy to welcome the charmer into their huddle.

As always, Padmé turned a blind eye to such actions, knowing it was merely a part of his nature; he was a flirt and something of a womaniser; besides, this was nothing but a tumble between the silks affair. It's not like they were getting engaged or anything. Vaguely, through the haze of the wine and the pleasure of the evening, Padmé finally became aware of Cybele saying something to her.

"You shouldn't allow him to touch you like that."

"Like what?"

"As though he were your openly recognized husband."

"And what exactly constitutes that kind of touching?"

Cybele frowned.

"You mean to tell me you don't notice how low his hand is on your waist or how openly he eyes you, as though you were a dessert to be devoured?"

Padmé giggled flirtatiously.

"I notice…and I don't care."

"But has he proposed to you yet?"

She frowned, looking into her half-empty glass. "What?"

"Until he does you should hold him off."

"Cybele, we aren't looking for marriage!" she held up her left hand to her brow to ward off a headache from the rather annoying maid beside her. "We're only flirting."

"But have you plighted your troth yet?"

"Well…not exactly…"

"And what I'm saying is that men such as he needs a legal contract to bind him down before he'll commit to anything." Cybele sighed and pointed at the man in question, who was currently dancing with a young girl. "You've seen him. He flirts with anything that resembles a woman."

"And I don't see why that is such an awful thing," Padmé retorted, sipping greedily from her goblet. "Calassë's own father, Lord Landion, was well known for being a womaniser in his day."

"Yes, but my Lord Landion never took his exploits any further then flirtation…at least not openly. Lord Thalion is all but treating you like a wife, without the binding contract. He buys you gowns, lavishes you with gifts, brazenly mauls you…" Cybele sucked in a breath at that. "And how do you think that makes you look?" She paused, and Padmé looked at her. "Like nothing more then his whore."

"I am no whore," Padmé said icily. Cybele didn't take the hint.

"You act like one when it comes to him."

Padmé turned and looked the irritating maid square in the face. "So what would you have me do, then, Cybele? What would you have me do?"

Cybele took on a sympathetic look at that.

"You must hold him at bay until he has agreed to be your husband; until you plight your troth before witnesses, and your engagement is officially announced." She took Padmé by the arms. "I mean it. He cannot touch you until this is done."

Padmé nodded, but already seemed to be far away as she watched Thalion end his dance with the girl and come back to her side, a charming smile on his face that caused her to melt. How was it possible to love so much, and in such a short time? It seemed like years had passed. He placed his hand in her own, and she sighed as she set her goblet down on a nearby windowsill.

"I believe your minutes are up, Mistress Cybele," Thalion commented playfully before twirling Padmé back into his arms and holding her possessively against his body. "Now it is my turn."

Cybele just bowed and frowned before giving Padmé a meaningful look and walking away. The dance began, and all was forgotten as Padmé felt him whirl her about the room, her body feeling lighter then air, her laughter ringing in every corner of her being. She was so happy…so very happy…and she knew, as he leaned forward to gaze meaningfully into her eyes, that she could refuse him nothing. Not even her dignity.

* * *

******Chapter forty-one. Ooh, a Palion chappie! Yay! Grr, Cybele's starting to piss me off a bit! Bloody shrew that woman is!********  
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	42. Promise

**Chapter forty-two**

The birds chirped noisily outside her window, and Padmé smiled, reminded of the fact that a nest was being built on her windowsill. Dawn was just beginning to crawl in through the glass panes, and as she rolled over, she found her naked back stretching out against another solid form.

"Good morning," Thalion smiled and yawned at her, stretching his muscular arms over his head. She smiled in return.

"Good morning."

He sat up, and the sheets pooled at his waist, barely hiding enough of him to be considered remotely modest…not that they worried about _that_ any more in their relationship.

"I'd best get going," he finally commented, sounding regretful, and Padmé reached out and touched him with her hand, noting the way the muscles of his arm responded to her touch.

"Do you have to?"

He nodded and rolled over so that his feet were dangling off the bed.

"Calassë is no doubt angry that we disappeared from the party so early."

Padmé shrugged.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she figured out where we went before we even knew we were going there. She probably knows about us already - as if we weren't obvious enough."

He chuckled.

"True, true. Even as children, she always knew what I was up to, before I'd do it. She told me I had a very guilty face."

Yawning and falling back onto the mattress of her bed, curling up to fight away the chill of the morning, Padmé just sighed.

"But why do we have to worry about such things at all, Thalion?" He tensed, as she knew he would at the mention of such a topic, but she chose to continue anyway. "Why can't two people just get together for a casual tumble between the silks?"

He turned and touched her cheek with his hand.

"I told you why…because women here are expected to be virgins until their wedding day, and to cleave only to their husbands."

She sighed and rolled away from him.

"How old-fashioned…"

"I know, Padmé. However, the law has been in place for over five millennia and only the King or Queen can change it."

"Calassë's going to be Queen. Why can't she change it? I'm fairly sure I'm not the only one who think that that law is a load of Banter fodder."

She felt him touch her shoulder, and tried not to melt under his skilled fingers, but was quickly losing the battle. This was how he always steered such conversations away from the point.

"She has to be Queen to change the law, and even then, it takes time," he finally commented, his lips next to her ear, and she shivered involuntarily. "And I agree, I think that particular law is ridiculous, but then again, I am a man. I don't have to deal with the repercussions if something goes wrong."

She sighed and allowed him to put his arms around her.

"You will be my undoing," she murmured. "Cybele thinks so."

"Cybele?"

"Yes…she believes that you are only toying with me, and that in the end you will break my heart."

He stiffened at that. "You don't believe that, do you Padmé? Please tell me you don't believe what that gossipy maid says."

She rolled over onto her back so that she could look at him, and saw, for once, genuine fear in his eyes. Unable to resist, she reached up and touched his cheek with her hand gently.

"A part of me wants to, because then I could leave you for someone else and justify it to my heart. But no, I don't believe her…and I have no doubt that will be my undoing."

Thalion's face relaxed at that and he chuckled, burying his head in her shoulder for a moment, inhaling the scent of her hair, before finally sitting back up and beginning to retrieve his clothes, which were scattered all over the room.

"I won't let any harm come to you," he finally stated as he pulled his shirt on over his head. Padmé brightened at that.

"Do you mean it?"

He smiled.

"Yes, I do."

She nodded.

"Then I'll believe you."

"And you won't worry about what Cybele does or does not say?" She shook her head. "You promise?"

Padmé smiled brightly.

"I promise."

"Good."

He leaned down across the bed and planted one final, lasting kiss on her lips that caused desire to spring up anew within her. She had to resist the urge to pull him back down onto the bed and repeat what they had done the night before, knowing he had already risked much by staying so long.

"Good bye, my lord," she called out as he opened her door.

"Good bye, my lady," he replied tenderly before shutting the door, and she could hear his retreating footsteps, along with the voice of Cybele, who had evidently spotted Thalion sneaking from her chambers, reprimanding him as they walked down the hall.

* * *

******Chapter forty-two. Ooh, another Palion chappie! Double yay! Cybele=Shrew! Dammit! She needs a goddamn life!********  
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	43. Shocking Truths

**Chapter forty-three**

The moon, high in the sky within the valley where I found myself, shone down upon the land below like a bright silver lamp as I found myself upon a grassy knoll overlooking an east facing shoreline.

Lowering my eyes, I found myself in a soft white gown, with a scooped neck and long, flowing sleeves. A single pearl, suspended from a silver necklace, rested just above the hem of my neckline. In my hair, I felt a circlet, and touched a hand to it, feeling the touch of the cool metal, and a single pearl suspended from it, which matched the pearl on my necklace. Drawing in a deep breath of air, I looked about, wondering where I was.

"The stars are no different than they are in the living world."

His soft, strong voice came from not far away, and I turned toward the sound, seeing my lord father lying upon his back amidst the high green grass. As he had in life, he wore finely woven breeches, and a richly embroidered tunic.

"Papa," I said with a smile, moving to stand over him. "Your clothes are far too fine for lying upon grass. They may be stained."

"This is a dream, little one," he said, fixing his eyes upon me, and smiling, half rising upon his elbows. "So I can do as I please. My garb will not be harmed."

"How funny you speak, papa," I teased dropping to my knees at his side.

"Of course," he agreed easily, reaching up to take my hand gently in his own. "But let it be. Come. Lie upon the grass. Look at the stars with me."

I smiled and began to settle down in the grass beside him.

"No," he said, sitting fully up, and drawing me back up as well. "Do not lie beside me."

My lips parted in confusion. "But you just asked me to-"

"Forgive me," he said again. "I thought you would understand without my explaining. Lie with your head beside mine, the rest of you lying so that your feet point south."

I grinned at this, and complied, moving so that my body lay in the opposite direction of my father, then settled onto the sweet smelling grass, my head beside his, and sighed as I lifted my eyes to the sky.

"They_ are _the same," I observed. "And just as real."

"They are, and just as beautiful," he agreed. Papa turned his head, the grass rustling as he did, and I turned as well, giggling at the sight of his face, upside down.

"Why, papa," I queried, gently squeezing his fingers as I spoke, "did you wish me to lay this way, rather than beside you, as I did as a child?"

His smile faded to a soft, sombre look at the question. A deep breath filled his lungs, and he hesitated before he spoke.

"Because, little one, you are a child no longer, in my eyes. You are a fair, beautiful woman now, on the verge of becoming Queen to our country."

"But Papa, regardless of age, I am still your daughter; a child of your blood."

Papa gently squeezed my fingers as he turned his eyes to the sky again. His voice became a whisper.

"'When she walks, she moves as with the grace of an ocean wave; her body slender and supple as a young willow, her hair like gold in the sun.'" He paused and smiled at me. "This is what a dear one close to your heart thinks of you

"Who?" I murmured, allowing Papa's sudden change of subject to pass by without objection as I turned my eyes again toward the sky.

"Someone who will present themselves in time," he continued, "for I learned something tonight."

"What did you learn?"

"Spoken exactly like your mother," he continued; I could feel the soft caress of his thumb against my fingers, "I learned that I could not lie to you any more, my dear one. The deceit and lies have endured long enough."

"Father?" I asked, feeling quite worried at the determined, yet sad look on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Make no mistake my dear one, I truly love you as a daughter, and delighted in your care, and your sister's. Watching you grow was a blessing."

He paused and finished in a whisper, "I am not your father."

My heart stopped within me. This was only a dream of my father, it was not real. Still, to hear such words in my father's voice sent a wave of pain and grief surging wildly through my body.

"I think you understand why I must tell you," he continued softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, "It grieves me to think of the lies and deception. Your mother and I tried desperately to make a child, you must understand; but we could not. I cursed our marriage with barrenness. I was - am - impotent. Your mother wept, I wept; the kingdom needed an heir. And eventually, through various means, both you and your sister were born."

Perhaps this was just mere absurdity of my sleeping mind.

"This is just a dream," I breathed to the sky. "My mother would not be unfaithful to her marriage. My mother would not lower herself in that way. My mother...was...not a whore."

"Think about it deeply, dear one. You know I speak the truth."

By the rustling of the grass, I realized he was rising. I turned my head to look up into his face where he rose, propped on one elbow, gazing down, his expression fraught with tenderness. He lifted my hand, and as he often did in life, pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. How warm and real he felt-

He vanished in an instant, disappearing as if he had not even been there. He was gone.

I sat up hurriedly, noting the long grass that had been pressed flat by his weight, springing slowly back now that he was not there. I cast my eyes about, wildly hoping to see him, though I knew I would not, before I drew my knees close, and hugged them, contemplating the words of the man who looked and sounded so much like my father. The swell of mingled denial and fear still coursed through me. And now I knew why such emotions would war within me.

The man I called Papa all my life, was not even vaguely related to me by blood. He was impotent, forcing my mother to become an adulteress to conceive myself and Lindariel. And I knew, in a moment of sudden clarity, that if even a whisper of this got out, there would be another, bloody war. And I could do nothing to stop it.

* * *

******Chapter forty-three. Ahh! Shocker! I bet no-one was expecting that!********  
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	44. Get the bait

**Chapter forty-four**

Thantos glanced across the fire at his fellow schemer, watching the lady tuck into the meat Thantos had roasted over the coals. He looked away, sneering to himself, wondering if she would devour the meat so enthusiastically if she knew-

"How's that rat meat?" Thantos said, turning back, sneering as his companion gagged and choked, spitting meat out of her mouth.

"_Rat meat_?" she shrieked, flinging the rest of the roasted carcass into the fire. "Why are you feeding me _rat meat_?! You're trying to poison me, aren't you!?"

"I been living off it for a while, my dear," Thantos chuckled, taking a stick and spearing the roasted rat carcass out of the flames. "Don't be so fast to complain. You were eating it happily enough, a minute ago."

He took the hot carcass, tossing it between his two hands until it had cooled sufficiently, then began tearing into the meat himself. The woman looked on in revulsion and disgust before turning away. Seeing her reaction, Thantos chewed and swallowed his bite, then gave a scoffing snort. He picked up the bow beside him, and pointed away into the trees.

"I have been thinking that the time has come to execute our plan," he said. "Everything is prepared, we just need the proper bait."

She rolled her eyes at this, and snorted.

"Proper bait."

Thantos frowned at her.

"I can't get anywhere near Sanctus!" he snarled defensively, and uttered a frustrated curse before he finished, "I need you to tell me her weakness."

She shrugged, and picked up one of Thantos' arrows, testing the sharp stone tip on his thumb nail. She smiled slowly.

"Well, there is one weakness of hers that I can think of..."

Thantos' brows lifted, and met her dark sneer across the fire. The young woman's eyes were alight like the eyes of a demon. It was just what he wanted to see.

* * *

Bellethiel drew in a deep, appreciate breath as she moved beneath the trees, her eyes uplifted, drinking in the beauty of the forest, cool shadows accompanied by golden spears of light piercing the green canopy above. The bright calls of birds echoed through the forest.

All seemed at peace, and in harmony.

Bellethiel reached out, touching a hand to the rough bark of a nearby tree. Within the tree, she sensed its quiet, sleepy soul, and she paused, leaning nearer to the tall, solid trunk of living wood. She closed her eyes, and pressed her brow to the tree, gently reaching out with her mind, trying to touch its soul. She smiled as she felt a faint, sleepy touch in return. Something deep within its core stirred. But the peace she'd hoped to feel, was absent. Something was wrong. Bellethiel's eyes flew open. It was trying to speak to her, warn her-

Before she was even conscious of why she did it, Bellethiel ducked, a fractioned moment before a sharp whistle cut through the air, something slamming into the bark if the tree above her head, quivering harshly. She spun, and her heart stopped within her at the figure that stepped from behind a nearby tree, holding a strung bow in one hand.

As her eyes met his, Bellethiel's heart nearly failed her. His eyes were the devil's eyes. Who was this? A living nightmare; a walking corpse? Terror washed over her at this thought, and crippling weakness seized her limbs. Almost, she let the terror turn her muscles to water. Almost she dropped her bow.

But no. She would not let herself. She would not show him fear. She was not the frightened helpless child she had once been. She was stronger, wiser. She would not shame her parents.

At this thought, a sense of prideful fury seized her heart. As the man snarled, and lunged for her, she whipped an arrow from her quiver, nocked it, and drew it to her cheek. Her fingers released the string, and the arrow sped toward him. A sickeningly soft thump met her ears as the arrow punched through the man's arm, spinning him around and onto the ground. A shriek of pain and fury exploded from his lips. Her arrow had pierce through a pinch of skin upon his arm, the bloody arrowhead visible, protruding from the back of his arm as he scrambled to rise. She nocked a second arrow with lightning speed, and trained it upon him, her gaze fixed on the cruel, hateful eyes. He froze, his lips drawn from his teeth in a growl.

"Be gone at once, _úan_," Bellethiel snarled through her teeth. "You have no purpose here." In her own ears, her voice sounded taut with rage, and despite her fear, Bellethiel felt a tingle of pleasure, for no hint of fear filled her words. "You taint the peace of Sanctus with your filthy presence." She took a step forward, the arrow still drawn to her cheek. "Leave, or die."

This man froze, pain and fear, washing over the lines of his face as he glared up at her, snarling like an animal. But then his eyes narrowed.

"The words of a child are nothing," he growled, and his eyes flashed past her for the briefest moment, sparking with triumph. Alarmed, Bellethiel began to turn, but not before something heavy thudded against the side of her head.

Bellethiel's senses fled her, draining like water from her body as she crumpled to the floor of the forest. Her arrow and bow clattered useless beside her. Two shadows moved to stand over her, her blurred vision fading into blackness. _Two_?

"**Leave her!**" a voice echoed as from far away, and the two shadows spun to face a new presence. Shouting voices echoed about her, mingled with the crack and clash of what sounded vaguely like fighting. But she could not say, for the last of her thoughts faded, and everything was lost into blackness.

* * *

******Chapter forty-four. Apologies for the delay; I lost all my notebooks for my fanfictions, so it's going to take some time to find them all. Me and my bad memory. Good thing this one was on my computer! Also, if this doesn't seem to have any relevance to the last chapter, well, it does! You just need to read the next chapter and whatnot to figure out that I'm saying! :D********  
**

******úan: monster, demon**

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	45. Premonition

**Chapter forty-five**

Even before I was fully conscious, something troubled me in my dreams. Bellethiel was hurt, in danger, afraid. Raina's daughter - _Raina's child _- I jerked my body off of the bed, fully awake in a moment.

"Bellethiel," I mumbled, and hurried to Bellethiel's room, reaching out to open the door, needing to see her, to speak to her and reassure myself that it was naught but a dream. But I stopped as the door to her room opened and my gaze landed on crumpled, empty sheets. I blinked, clearing my vision. Upon her pillow, lay a folded note. Innocent enough, but at the sight of it, my heart grew inexplicably cold.

"My lady!" a voice in that moment shouted up from below. "My lady, Lady Bellethiel, we must speak to you! It's most urgent!"

"I'm here Qui-Gon!" I called as I read Bellethiel's note with anxious eyes. Footsteps, two sets, pounded on the encircling steps. Both men, from the sound of their boots. Qui-Gon, and one other. What had brought them?

_Miss Calassë, _read the note,_ I have gone a short way into the grounds with my bow and three arrows, for my fingers itch to try some target practice. I also took a flute with me, for I wish to make some music as well. I will return soon. _

_Bellethiel_

Nothing upon the note seemed alarming, but I could not shake the feeling that something terrible was amiss, my fears compounded by frantic pounding at the door.

"Lady Calassë, Bellethiel! May we come in?"

I drew the opening of my sleeping robe closed, tying the sash firmly as I answered, "Enter, Qui-Gon."

Two booted sets of feet strode through the antechamber, the second door opened and Qui-Gon appeared with D'Artagnan beside him.

"What's wrong?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest to preserve _some _part of my modesty.

"Where is Bellethiel?" D'Artagnan spoke first.

"I cannot say," I said. "She took her bow and a few arrows, and left before I woke."

I glanced at the note, and after a moment, handed it to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon snatched it with alarming impatience, and scanned the contents, his face growing ever more worried as he handed it to D'Artagnan. The captain's face took on a look of deepening worry much like Qui-Gon's.

"We would do well to find her," Qui-Gon said. "Now."

Rising alarm gripped my heart, and I did as Qui-Gon bade me without question, turning and striding out the door, Qui-Gon and D'Artagnan on my heels.

"The guards spotted Thantos not far away from here," Qui-Gon said, his voice short as he rushed to keep pace. I froze on the stairs, and turned alarmed eyes to him.

"And he wasn't alone," D'Artagnan added, one step behind Qui-Gon.

"Who was with him?" I demanded, hardly waiting for an answer as I spun forward and doubled my pace down the steps.

"No-one is sure," D'Artagnan said. "It's a woman, but her identity is unknown. We believe she's been helping Thantos for quite some time, and possibly had a hand in your abduction a few years ago, my lady."

Every word they spoke only made my heart throb all the more with rising alarm. I reached the gardens. Two horses were grazing in the paddock nearby, unsaddled and unbridled.

"The trees make it difficult to find anyone," D'Artagnan said. "But two pairs of eyes, especially determined, might-"

"Nórui!" I cried, not wishing to hear the rest of the captain's words. The guard came at a run out of the stable, his spear aloft and his armour shining. Without bothering to fetch a saddle, I gripped the nearest horse's mane, and swung onto his back. I could ride bareback at need, and wished not to take the time to saddle the stallion.

"Nórui, which way did Lady Bellethiel go?" I demanded of the young guard. The guard thought for a moment, and pointed north. Without looking back at Qui-Gon or D'Artagnan, I urged the horse into a gallop toward the thick trees.

"Calassë!" Qui-Gon shouted. "Don't forget this!"

I barely slowed, letting the mounts of Qui-Gon and D'Artagnan reach me only long enough to turn as Qui-Gon tossed a sword belt to me. Deftly, I caught the sheathed weapon, then turned forward again. My heart sank to think I might have a need for such a weapon, but I only tucked the belted blade close to my chest, and urged the stallion beneath me faster. Into the forest shadows, we plunged. Branches snatched and scratched at my face, but I barely heeded them. Behind me, I could hear the muffled pounding of Qui-Gon's mount, and D'Artagnan's struggling to keep up. But they were falling swiftly behind.

_Let my fears be for nothing!_ I prayed silently through gritted teeth. But in my heart, a quiet, heavy premonition weighted upon my soul.

* * *

******Chapter forty-five. Again, if this doesn't seem to have any relevance to the last chapter, well, it does! You just need to read the next chapter and whatnot to figure out that I'm saying! :D**

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	46. Spilt Blood

**Chapter forty-six**

Clio's blood burned with a fury she had not felt since she learnt of her parent's deaths as she spun the staff in her hands, and brought it down, cracking solidly across the hooded woman's wrist, sending her reeling back, howling in fury, though she did not drop the heavy club she held.

Clio scowled, and spun, punching the end of her staff into the stomach of Thantos who lunged at her from the side, using the momentum against herself. His breath exhaled from him in a rush as he staggered back, bent double, clutching at his belly, his knees sagging. The child's arrow still protruded from his arm, and blood darkened the cloth of his sleeve around the wooden shaft, though the wound seemed barely to hamper him. A quiver lay across his back, nearly empty of arrows, but his bow had long ago been cracked by Clio's staff. Wheezing, Thantos stumbled to one knee. He had no breath. He would be of no consequence, for a few moments at least.

Clio snarled, and turned away from the wounded man and back to the woman who leapt at him, her club swinging, but who jerked backward as Clio's staff slashed at her midsection, barely missing her. The woman stumbled back several paces, gasping, giving them both a few moments to breath. The hand Clio had just struck, she held curled against her chest, and Clio wondered if she had broken it, fiercely hoping she had. Thantos' one good eye glared murder at Clio. His other eye, a dark red welt across his brow and over the bridge of his nose, was swiftly swelling shut. Clio had left that mark at the beginning of their fight, and it pleased him to see the purpling bruise.

This was a sensation Clio did not relish, for it brought back unwanted memories, and bitter regrets. Even so, Clio knew she needed every spark of fire that burned in her blood, to keep this pair of jackals at bay.

As her eyes turned one way and the other, her breath burning in her lungs, Clio wondered if perhaps, these creatures were not children of Nyx, but twisted and soulless mockeries. Their eyes were hard, filled with bottomless darkness. There was no humanity left in their hearts. She could see that, clearly enough.

"Little one?" she called over her shoulder, hoping the child would respond. But no sound came from where she lay. Clio turned fleetingly, hoping to see that she still breathed-

Thantos, still upon one knee, shifted, only a little, and Clio jerked back, but not quickly enough as a sharp pain punched into her side. Clio staggered backward several steps, her eyes dropping down to see a knife hilt protruding from beneath her ribs. Blood was already pooling around the hilt, soaking her gown and cloak. Thantos staggered to his feet, sneering wickedly.

"Well done," the woman snarled, and both chuckled darkly.

Clio blinked fiercely, pressing a hand to the wound, vainly trying to hold back the blood she could feel spilling down her side, hot, and wet. Her vision wobbled, and a loud ringing filled her ears. Sneering cruelly, the lady strode near. With her free hand, Clio clenched her staff with determination. Whether she was still alive or not, she would fight for this child until the breath was torn from her.

"Die," the woman spat, and lifted her club. Crushing her teeth together, Clio lifted her staff, knowing it would not be enough. The club swung, stars exploded in her vision, and Clio felt herself falling into nothing.

* * *

"Bellethiel!" I called, my voice frantically echoing away through the trees, praying, with sinking hope, that all was well, and that my fears were unfounded, and that I would come upon her any moment, her eyes startled to see me so distraught. But when I saw the figure, prone upon the bed of forest leaves beneath a spear of sunlight, my heart sank into black hopelessness.

It was not her, but my fear was nearly as great as my heart stopped in recognition.

"Clio!" I shrieked, and flung myself from the horse's back, scrambling and slipping over leaves in my haste to reach Clio's side. The golden-haired maid lay face-down a quarterstaff still clutched in his hand. She did not move. Her sunny hair hid her face, matted with blood. And from beneath her ribs, a knife-hilt protruded. Nearby, an arrow, bearing unrecognisable fletchings, protruded from the side of a tree.

Was Clio breathing? Was she still alive? Why was she here?

"Clio?" I begged, dropping my sheathed sword, and touching a shoulder. Clio moaned faintly, but she did not move, nor speak. Gingerly, I brushed aside her blood-dampened hair. Her face was still, her eyes closed. Blood trickled down her cheek, over her nose in crimson rivulets, dripping into the leaves beneath her. I could see from the faint movement of her breath that she still lived.

"Clio?" I pleaded. "Where is Bellethiel? Where is the child? What's happened to her?"

But Clio could not answer. The thumping of hooves did not lift my head as I bent over Clio.

"Clio!" Qui-Gon cried, leaping from his horse, and scrambling to the fallen maid's side. D'Artagnan followed behind, though he stopped short of the huddled group, drawing in a fierce hiss of sympathy. Gingerly, Qui-Gon rolled the maid onto her back, a ragged gasp escaping him at the blood on Clio's face, the knife hilt protruding from beneath her ribs.

"If she is to have any chance to live, I must get her back," he said softly. "I have to take her back and treat her."

"Bellethiel-" My voice was a choked whisper as I lifted my head, and looked about at the trees, my heart growing hollow. This was the work of Thantos and his accomplice. And why would Clio confront them unless they were a threat to Bellethiel? If Clio had confronted them to defend Bellethiel, where was she? Where was Raina's daughter?

"My lady-"

D'Artagnan's voice was suddenly soft and fierce. The rustle of leaves followed D'Artagnan as he strode a short distance away, then bent, and picked up something from the ground. My heart tightened. Bellethiel's little flute. The one she had said she would take with her. She had been here.

"Bellethiel!" I snarled, staggering to my feet. "Dear Nyx, where-"

"My lady-" D'Artagnan's voice was broken, "They went this way."

He pointed at the ground a short distance away from where he stood, his hand rising to indicate the direction the tracks went. The muscle beneath D'Artagnan's jaw twitched, and his eyes were tortured as he dropped to one knee and touched the ground. "Two sets of feet, one is carrying something over one shoulder." His voice became cold and fierce. "They're carrying her like a felled deer, the maggots!"

I looked across Clio into Qui-Gon's eyes.

"I have to follow them. I must go after them."

"And I'll go with you," D'Artagnan said.

"I have to take Clio back," Qui-Gon agreed. "We have to try to save her."

With ease, Qui-Gon lifted the maid, and I turned to watch him, the unconscious girl's body light and limp. Together, we lifted and settled her upon a horse's back. Qui-Gon mounted behind her, circling an arm about Clio's chest, holding her limp body on the horse's back. His free hand grasped the reins. Clio's head lolled back against his shoulder.

"Take the horses," I ordered. "D'Artagnan and I will need stealth from here."

Qui-Gon nodded, his eyes heavy with worry. He wheeled his horse about, his eyes turning down to look at me.

"Find her."

And then he heeled his mount's side, and was gone. D'Artagnan's horse followed him, but my stallion hesitated, turned to look at me, his eyes seeming to understand all that happened.

"Go," I ordered, and the stallion turned, and galloped after Qui-Gon. I bent, numb, as I picked up my sheathed sword, and the staff Clio had left behind.

"Here," I said, tossing the staff to D'Artagnan. He caught it easily. I nodded.

"Lead the way, Captain," I said. D'Artagnan nodded, and turned away, his eyes fixed upon the ground as we darted away.

* * *

******Chapter forty-six. Again, if this doesn't seem to have any relevance to the last chapter, well, it does! You just need to read the next chapter and whatnot to figure out that I'm saying! :D**

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	47. Prowling Wolf

**Chapter forty-seven**

The world appeared as little more than a blur at first as Bellethiel came to her senses, a mass of green wavering before her eyes. The smell of earth and growing things found her nostrils, and as she stirred, she realized that stiff rope bound her wrists together. She lay upon soft ground, thick trees rising all about her. The events that had passed before she had had been struck from behind rushed back into her mind, and she pushed herself up, ignoring the throbbing that fell like a hammer against her temple, nothing else on her mind but escape as she lunged toward the thick trees.

She had run no more than three paces before a tug on her bound hands whipped her around. Her feet flew out from under her, and she crashed to the ground.

"Ha, you're awake," a voice growled. Lifting her head, her eyes darted about the clearing. A fire flickered in the centre of the clearing, clawing hungry fingers upward. Beside the writhing flames sat a man. He had been gnawing at the roasted carcass of a recent kill, but he turned toward her now, his eyes hard with cruel glee.

"Who are you?" she demanded, struggling to keep her voice from quavering

"I am Thantos." The man lifted a hunk of roasted meat, and tore a bite out of it, studying her with only one good eye. A purple bruise had swollen his other eye shut. The tortured firelight flickered off of the cruel lines of his features.

The sleeve of his right arm had been torn away, and she could see an ugly gash swelling upon his forearm. How had he been injured? She had not done it. She hadn't even seen him before he struck her from behind - a heavy wooden club lay on the ground at his feet. Upon one side of the heavy wooden head, was a dried, discoloured spot-

She touched a hand to her own head, feeling a hard, painful lump. He had struck her hard, but he had not broken the skin. That wasn't her blood.

Bellethiel's breath paused. Someone had come to fight for her in the last moments before she had succumbed to blackness. Who had it been? Miss Calassë? Her heart grew heavy at the thought, threatening to sink into despair. Miss Calassë would not let them take her away, were she still alive. And what was that- clinging to an uneven protrusion on the wood, in the centre of the bloody spot - a tangled clump of long, golden hair.

As if he sensed her growing despair, her captor grinned. She jerked her eyes away from his sneering face, and lowered her gaze to her hands, studying the long plaited tether that snaked across the ground from her bound wrists to the rock he sat upon. The rope disappeared beneath the heavy stone, pinned beneath its weight.

"Where are we?" she demanded.

"Still in the gardens of Sanctus," Thantos scoffed. Bellethiel's throat tightened at the tones of his voice.

"Miss Calassë will find me," she grated, bracing for his next words.

"I expect her to," he snorted. "I imagine she wants you back." His eyes slid over her form, a sneer curling his lips as his eyes sparked with cruel fire. "I would."

Bellethiel shuddered and recoiled, refusing to meet his eyes. He reached her, and Bellethiel flinched and fell back a step, but she could go no further, straining against the tether binding her wrists. His hand touched her hair, and Bellethiel clenched her teeth, shutting her eyes as he brushed her hair, almost gently, aside.

"D'you know how long it's been since I-"

His hand fell, and he dropped back a step.

"You're no daughter of hers," he muttered. Bellethiel did not speak. She twisted her bound wrists, straining to break away.

"You're as fair as one, though."

He stepped closer to her, and again his hand touched her face. She jerked away, but he caught her chin in his grip. She wanted to wretch on his feet. He was old enough to be her father!

"Thantos!"

Bellethiel jerked at the sound of a person crashing through the brush. A figure tumbled from the thickness of the trees and into the clearing.

Her wild hope that Calassë had come to rescue her, crumbled at the sight of a hooded woman as she darted out of the trees. She stumbled to a stop, her gowned bosom heaving. Over her cloaked shoulder, she carried Bellethiel's own bow and quiver, a cluster of fletchings jostling one another.

"What is it?" Thantos snapped, lurching to his feet.

"She's coming," she gloated, her voice wild as she pointed behind her. "Just as I said she would. There's another with her. That captain. The wench has a sword, the captain, the same staff the girl had, the one you killed."

Thantos laughed, and Bellethiel's skin grew cold at the bitter cruelty in his tone.

"Who?" she demanded, hearing her voice shiver. "Who did you kill?" Her mind flashed back to the club, the blood, and the tangled, golden hair. "_Who_?"

Neither answered, though they traded a sneering glance. Thantos tossed the bone he had been gnawing into the fire, and shot a grin at Bellethiel. His lips pulled back from his teeth in an expression that reminded her of a hungry wolf. Keeping his one good eye upon her, he moved to the woman's side, and pulled an arrow from the quiver. Then returning to the stone that held Bellethiel's tether down, he bent, and using the razor edge of the arrow head, severed the end. He straightened, grinning as he twisted the shortened rope in his fist.

"Let's go meet our guests," he ordered. With a snort, the lady turned and disappeared back into the forest the way she had come. But before Thantos followed, he paused, and turned toward Bellethiel, his eyes cold and hard. Twisting her tether around his hand, closing the distance between them, he jerked her toward him. Bellethiel winced, and struggled to back away, though the rope would not let her.

"If we did not have this present trouble to contend with-" he growled, his thick breath washing her face. One hand reached toward her, but Bellethiel twisted away, and spat on his outstretching hand.

She snarled, "When Miss Calassë reaches us-"

Thantos' hand seized her chin in a painful grip, forcing her to look at him, and his one remaining eye filled with fury.

"When she reaches us, she will rue the day she ever rejected me and my touch. She will _beg _for it before the end." Letting his snarl fade, he released her face, and turned away. "Come," he barked. "It is time to go meet your fearless champion." Yanking her behind him, he turned in the direction the woman had gone, and strode after her, the shadows of the trees closing over their heads.

* * *

******Chapter forty-seven. Again, if this doesn't seem to have any relevance to the last chapter, well, it does! You just need to read the next chapter and whatnot to figure out that I'm saying! :D**

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	48. Compromise

**Chapter forty-eight**

"D'Artagnan," I gasped, my breath like fire coming in my throat as I darted behind the captain along the wild animal trail that wended eastward, through the thick forest. "How near?"

We had been running for some time at almost a near sprint without rest, save for the moments when D'Artagnan would pause and drop to a knee, studying the ground, or a bent branch across the trail as we followed the faint markings our quarry left behind. The air beneath the canopy felt close and heavy, and sweat weighted and dampened my hair. My feet slapped the earth in rhythm with my laboured breathing as I followed the captain's lead along the trail, and my muscles burned from the strenuous punishment of our swift run. But I cared nothing for the weariness of my body, my every thought fixed upon Bellethiel, and having her safe in my arms again.

_Had they harmed Bellethiel_?

Fear ricocheted around in my mind like an angry wasp that could not find release. The dread of what she might be suffering at their hands, burned in the pit of my stomach, fuelling my anger, and giving me strength that he would not have had otherwise.

In front of me, a generous beam of sunlight washed across the trail, spilling through a wide break in the canopy above us. Before we reached the splash of sunlight, the captain's feet skidded to a stop, and I slid to a halt behind him, my eyes fixed upon the man whose eyes scanned the ground.

"Are we nearing them?" I gasped, again, my chest rising and falling as waves of helplessness threatening to engulf me. No longer running hard to ease the fear that raged within me, my blood seemed to boil in my veins, as if my soul would fly apart at any moment. D'Artagnan straightened and met my eyes, reaching out and clapping a hand upon my shoulder.

"We're close. They passed through here not long ago. Look."

D'Artagnan snatched up a slender branch that had fallen on the trail, torn from a tree beside the path. He studied the torn and twisted wood before he tossed the branch away, his eyes scanning the earth as if some message had been written there. Then he gazed at the trees about them, straining to see into the distant depths of their murky shadows, his jaw working beneath his skin.

"They are not moving quickly."

He turned, and his smouldering eyes met my gaze. I could see my own agony reflected in the man's eyes.

"You know they took her only to lure you out here," D'Artagnan muttered.

"That is my hope. I would rather they hurt me, than her."

I looked at D'Artagnan, studying the pain and fear upon his face.

"I cannot lose her, D'Artagnan," I muttered. D'Artagnan looked steadily at me.

"You-"

"She is as a daughter to me now."

D'Artagnan looked away at this, his chin trembling slightly at the words.

"We'll find them, my lady," he said at last, "It won't-"

I lifted a hand cutting off his words as a faint sound found my ears. I looked up, turning my eyes to the profuse growth around us. For a moment, I could see nothing. Then, a movement deep within the trees to my left caught my eye. A figure, indistinct in the green shadows, moved nearer, its movements imbalanced and irregular like the jerking gait of some corpse that had dragged itself from the grave. I drew my sword from its sheath, the whisper of metal upon metal echoing away through the trees. D'Artagnan's fists tightened around the staff in his hands.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Speak!"

"Ho, my lady!" the figure scoffed. "Do you wish to cause harm to a child?"

A jolt of fear speared through me at this, and I lowered my blade as the figure stepped from the shadows into the light.

My blood grew hot.

"Greetings my lady," Thantos scoffed, one muscled arm circled about Bellethiel's tiny waist as she stumbled in front of him, struggled against his hold on her. Her eyes, wide and filled with fear, pleaded with me over Thantos' thick hand clamped on her mouth. Her hands were bound in front of her with a strap of dirty leather and it took all the restraint within me to keep from flinging myself across the space between them, and tearing Bellethiel out of his grasp. But as my glance dropped to sharp arrow tucked like a knife into the belt at his waist, I knew I could do nothing. The arrow would be in his hand, and Bellethiel dead in the moments it would take me to reach them. And so I stood my ground, helpless, my fist clenching my sword so tightly that my fingers grew numb.

"We know there's another," I snarled. "Where is the woman?"

To this, Thantos only chuckled. D'Artagnan snarled.

"We've come for the lady, Bellethiel. Let her go."

"I think not," he chuckled. "I enjoy her company." Thantos pressed his face against Bellethiel's hair and pulled her more firmly against his chest. She shuddered, and tried to pull away. "So soft to hold," he murmured.

"_Take your filthy hands off her_!" I shrieked, raw fury clawing my throat. To this, a cold grin parted Thantos' lips. His eyes darted to something beyond my shoulder. Seeing what Thantos could see, Bellethiel's eyes grew wide with horror, and with a wild wrench of her head, tore her mouth away from his hand.

"Look ou-" she shrieked before Thantos' hand clamped over her mouth again.

I spun then, saw the figure pounce from the shadows, the twang of a bowstring, the hiss of an approaching arrow. I ducked, rolling to the side as the arrow buzzed past my head, and struck the ground, sending up a spray of earth.

But my relief turned to dust as _Cybele_ fit another arrow to the string, of Bellethiel's bow, I realized, and drew it back. I scrambled to rise to my feet, but I saw the arrow flying toward my chest, knowing it would make its target. From nowhere, seemingly, an indistinct blur obscured the arrow. A hard thump, a deep burst of air, and D'Artagnan staggered back into me. I caught D'Artagnan's weight as the injured man sank to his knees, my heart growing still at the arrow protruding from his chest, just below his collarbone.

"_Mama!_" Bellethiel wailed, wrenching her mouth from Thantos' hold as D'Artagnan tried to regain his feet, but faltered. I caught his arm, finding the captain's pain-filled eyes.

"I should've known," Cybele barked, her eyes now fixed upon D'Artagnan. "I've heard of you! You would become all noble, wouldn't you?"

"Be silent," D'Artagnan snarled through his pain, "You know not of which you speak."

In answer, Cybele laughed. Two arrows remained in her quiver.

"Think you are so mighty now, _princess_?" Thantos growled. Lava coursed through my blood. I spun to face Thantos. The man jerked the arrow from his belt. Bellethiel sucked in a hiss of pain as the arrowhead pressed against the tender flesh of her throat.

"_Mama!_" Bellethiel choked, her voice thick with tears.

"Bellethiel, are you hurt?" I demanded. "What have they done to you?"

"I'm-"

"Silence!" Thantos pressed the arrowhead more firmly against her skin, and Bellethiel winced as a bead of blood appeared beneath the point of the arrowhead, crimson against her smooth throat. My chest tightened in impotent fury as Thantos' eyes gleamed in malicious triumph. I clutched D'Artagnan's shoulder, striving to keep the wounded man from crumpling to the ground. Cybele still had two arrows left. And the next arrow might find D'Artagnan's heart. Or Bellethiel's.

"We all know that it is me you want," I growled stepping from D'Artagnan's side as an icy chill knifed across my skin, "let Bellethiel go." I swallowed. "Let her return safely with my comrade to the palace. I will stay, and you can do what you will with me."

* * *

******Chapter forty-eight. AHH, we finally know the identity of insane lady! Cybele! Who would've guessed!?**

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	49. To Pierce Flesh

**Chapter forty-nine**

Clutched in Thantos' grasp, Bellethiel's face grew pale as ivory, her rose-quartz eyes gleaming like jewels, pleaded with his. _No, _her lips mouthed. D'Artagnan drew in a growling breath of frustration mixed with pain. His feet stirred in the leaves beneath him as D'Artagnan, despite the pain that radiated through his body from the arrow buried deep in his shoulder, staggered to his feet. He took a few stumbling steps toward Calassë. Even with his gaze fixed upon Bellethiel and her pleading eyes, D'Artagnan could see Cybele's hand slowly rising toward herquiver once again.

Was the arrow Cybele reaching for meant for himself, or Bellethiel? Or Calassë?

Despite the raging pain that shot through him, D'Artagnan took another step toward Calassë, determined to stay between the princess and Cybele's arrows.

"Let her go," Calassë repeated, moving several steps away increasing the distance between herself and D'Artagnan, though she could no longer see Cybele in the corner of her vision. "She isn't the one you want."

"Throw down your sword," Thantos spat, his voice low and dangerous. He twisted the arrowhead against Bellethiel's pale throat, and the spot of blood turned into a long trail of crimson, snaking down over the head of the arrow. D'Artagnan's stomach churned with fury at the sight. With a snarl, Calassë tossed the blade away. It landed in a whisper of leaves, but she did not turn to look. Calassë upraised her hands.

"_Let her go, Thantos!_" she grated through her teeth. The twang of a bowstring barely found his ears before an arrow struck Calassë's thigh, causing the princess to stagger, a muffled shriek of pain escaping her lips.

"_No_!" Bellethiel shrieked as Calassë stumbled to her knees upon the forest floor.

D'Artagnan turned his head, seeing Cybele reaching for her last arrow, and fitting it to the string, a snarl like a bloodthirsty beast, curling up her lips in a demonic smile. Bellethiel shrieked and jerked in Thantos' grip, though his iron hold would not let her go. Faintly, D'Artagnan was glad, for she would fly to Calassë if she could escape, and-

The arrow drew to Cybele's cheek. Her fingers released, and the arrow sped from the string. With a half strangled yell, D'Artagnan threw himself forward, his body exploding with pain as he lunged for the flying missile. A sharp crack filled the air, and the sound of shattering, splintering wood, before the staff in his hands struck the ground, Cybele's last arrow cracked and broken beneath it. A roar of fury burst from Cybele's lips at this, her blazing eyes turning now to D'Artagnan.

"You interfering wretch!" she shouted, flinging her bow down, and jerking a short, obsidian bladed dagger from the sleeve of her gown. "She took my brother from me! My Adan! And you _defend_ the little whore!"

Cybele lunged toward D'Artagnan, her knife upraised. His heart bursting into his throat, D'Artagnan stumbled back, dropping to his knees, the leaves crackling around him as he fell. Cybele's lips drew back from her teeth as D'Artagnan's hands fell into the leaves. Cybele's eyes blazed in victory. But then D'Artagnan straightened again, sword in hand.

Cybele's sneer of victory twisted into a mask of despair and horror as D'Artagnan lunged upward, teeth clenched against the white hot pain pulsing through his body, thrusting the sword forward, impaling Cybele upon the point of it. Cybele wavered and fell. D'Artagnan jerked the sword free, his soul screaming in a small corner of his mind at what he had just done, though he would not let his thoughts dwell upon it as he turned toward Thantos, and held out the blade, not wanting to focus upon the newly bloodied tip.

"You heard my lady," D'Artagnan snarled. "Let her go. Or die."

Thantos' eyes that had been widened briefly in horror at the sight of Cybele's fall, now narrowed in rage. With a snarl, his arm snaked about Bellethiel's waist, and he whipped her off her feet, flinging her over his shoulder like a felled deer as he turned and lunged back into the shadows of the forest.

"D'Artagnan, my sword!" Calassë shouted, and without thought, D'Artagnan tossed the blade through the air as she had bidden him. Calassë caught it deftly, and without another moment, turned and dashed after Thantos into the trees, swift, despite the arrow in her thigh, and vanished.

Alone now, D'Artagnan turned back to the woman he had impaled, his stomach twisting at the blood seeping now from Cybele's mouth. The woman looked up at him, hers eyes fathomless pools of hate as half garbled curses escaped her lips, her chest jerking in spasms.

"Calassë," D'Artagnan said, his throat thickening, "is not a whore."

Cybele did not speak but her eyes widened in wild horror as at some sight only she could see before her chest stopped moving, and the hate in her eyes glazed, and faded, a spark going out. D'Artagnan turned away from the body and staggered, despite his pain, toward the bow Cybele had dropped. If Calassë could run with an arrow in her thigh, D'Artagnan could do the same with an arrow in his shoulder. He picked up the bow, faltering a moment. There were no good arrows left, to-

No. There was one arrow left he could use.

He touched a hand to the shaft of the arrow buried in his shoulder. The stone arrowhead was hooked. It would be agony to pull it out, tearing muscle and sinew along the way. But he would, if he had to.

Turning in the direction Calassë had run, D'Artagnan gripped the bow, and started to run, ignoring the pain that raced through his body with every strike of his foot against the ground.

* * *

******Chapter forty-nine. The death of Cybele! Finally! That girl was too crazy for her own good; it was bound to come back and bite her sooner or later!**

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	50. To Be Struck Down

**Chapter fifty**

Bellethiel's head throbbed, and she fought to remain conscious as Thantos lurched on, plunging further into the murky gloom. Little light penetrated the shadows here, for he followed no defined path, and the growth overhead and about them grew thick and tangled. Branches scratched her arms and her face, tearing at her unbound hair. Thantos' feet pounded as he ran, his shoulder digging into her stomach with each leap.

The world became a blur of confusion as she hung from Thantos' shoulder like a felled deer, and Bellethiel could not begin to guess where she was. Neither could she even discern how far they had gone as her captor continued to run deeper and deeper into the forest.

She was beginning to feel her hold on reality slipping when Thantos staggered to a stop, puffing and cursing. After glancing behind him, he flung her, like a sack of grain, down upon the ground. Spongy ground cushioned her rough fall, and Bellethiel landed winded, but unscathed. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up as well as she could with her bound hands. They were back at the camp where she had first regained consciousness. The fire that had blazed earlier had burned now down to coals.

"Cursed child," Thantos gasped, his chest heaving. "You are too much trouble to keep-"

Bellethiel looked up and met Thantos' cold eyes, struggling to keep the movement of her hands hidden. His fist tightened around the narrow handle of his heavy wooden club, the wood creaking in the tightness of his grip.

"Your precious princess will find you soon," Thantos spat, still struggling to regain his breath, "but not soon enough to save you."

With a cruel sneer, Thantos bent down toward her, and snatched her hair in one hand as he lifted the club high into the air. But before he could swing the blade down into her body, Bellethiel twisted away, pulling him off balance, and though a handful of her hair came off in his hand, ripping painfully from her scalp, Bellethiel held onto her wits, as she rolled to her back, lifted her feet, and kicked hard, into Thantos' left shin, her nearest target. Thantos shrieked, and staggered back falling to the ground, fury and surprise written on his face.

Her booted feet, Bellethiel noted in a fleeting moment of pride, had torn skin, and drawn blood. Snatching her chance, Bellethiel scrambled to her feet, and plunged away into the tangled trees, running blindly, praying that she ran in the direction from which she had come.

"_Mama!_" she screamed, hoping her voice carried through the trees.

Behind her, an inhuman howl of rage rolled after her, and the crashing sound of Thantos's pursuit followed. If he reached her, Bellethiel knew, Thantos would no longer hesitate, would not take time to brag or boast, but would kill her in an instant. Forcing her mind to stay calm, Bellethiel prayed as she ran, vaulting over dead, moss-covered logs, and pushing aside the tangle of vines and leaves. Her feet flew, and branches slapped her face, snatching at her hair. Her lungs burned, but still she ran on, the crashing and cursing behind her drawing steadily nearer.

"Mama!" she screamed again before a shadow materialized before her in the gloom. She staggered back, her terror momentarily keeping her from recognizing her before she spoke.

"_Bellethiel!_"

"Mama!" her voice was a sob as Calassë's free hand seized her bound wrists and her sword found the rope binding them, sawing with feverish haste at the rough binding.

"Thank Nyx I found you!" she choked, "I feared he'd kill you before-"

"Mama, he's coming!"

A furious roar reverberated through the trees as Thantos' unmistakable silhouette leapt over a moss-covered log, and into her vision.

Calassë's face jerked up. She shoved Bellethiel behind her with unintentional roughness, sending the child to her knees as she turned toward Thantos and raised her sword, the metal clanging as she dashed aside Thantos' club.

"Run, Bellethiel!" Calassë shouted, her voice carrying over Thantos' shrieks and curses. "Get away from here!"

Bellethiel struggled to rise, for it was difficult, her hands still bound. The binding around her hands felt loosened, but she wasn't entirely free, not yet. With effort, she staggered to her feet. But despite Calassë's plea, she did not run away.

How could she, when Calassë, her mama, was in such peril for her sake?

Calassë, the arrow still embedded in her thigh, staggered, in obvious agony, as she dashed aside blow after blow from Thantos' heavy club. Clearly noting the princess's pain, Thantos sneered, and managed to swing a blow, which Calassë could not entirely dodge, down upon the protruding arrow, snapping it with a crack.

A yelp of pain escaped Calassë, and she staggered, fresh scarlet wetness seeping through her night-shift and the thin robe over it, from the point where the arrowhead lay embedded.

"_No_!" she wailed, fearing Calassë would topple to the ground. But she did not.

Thantos's back was turned to her, and she could see Calassë's face. Agony mingled with determination as once again, she dashed the club aside.

"_Please_ _Bellethiel!_" she cried. "_Run_! _For_ _your mother's_ _sake_!"

Bellethiel's heart turned to ashes within her.

"_Mama!_" she sobbed, hopeless. For she knew she was right. For her real mother, Raina, whose essence she could feel, even now around her, was ordering her to flee. But how could she? All that was in her, bid her stay, and somehow, some way, save her new mother! Nyx forgive her, but she _could_ _not_ leave!

A new thrashing of undergrowth found her ears, and she spun, her heart frozen with fear, forgetting, for a fleeting moment, that she had seen Cybele slain, before D'Artagnan plunged into view, bow in hand, his eyes sweeping the scene.

"Captain," she choked, snatching onto his arm. Without speaking, D'Artagnan snatched her bound hands, and started tearing at the bindings round her wrists.

"Help her!" she pleaded. "You have to help her!"

Thantos did not see the newcomer, his back still toward Bellethiel as he forced Calassë further and further back across the small clearing.

"I can't, little one," D'Artagnan growled, his teeth clenching in pain as he finally ripped the last of the rope away from her hands, and flung it away, thrust the bow into her hands in the same moment, his other hand clutching at the arrow buried in his shoulder. "My arm is too badly injured. I cannot draw it fully. I would miss."

D'Artagnan drew a ragged breath and spoke again.

"But you can, for you know everything I taught you," he gasped. Bellethiel met his eyes. D'Artagnan winced, and grasped at the arrow embedded in his shoulder, clenching his teeth.

"Help me pull it out."

* * *

Thantos's energy seemed limitless as he lashed out at me, as, taxed by the raging pain in my thigh, and the blood that I could feel seeping steadily from it, was falling back. Was Bellethiel gone? Had she heeded me? I dared not even risk a glance now, and could only pray that she was running, as swiftly as she could away, far away. Perhaps she would find D'Artagnan, and he would take her back to Qui-Gon and the others. So long as she was safe, so long as Thantos could not find her-

Thantos seemed to sense my waning strength and a wicked glint shone in his wild eyes as he fought harder, relentlessly forcing me back.

Finally, a stone connected with the back of my heel, and I went down. Scrambling desperately, I tried to rise again. But Thantos, seeing his chance, kicked my wrist, sending my sword tumbling from my hand, and stood over me, his foot on my chest, his club rising into the air. Thantos sneered.

A strange whistling sound rent the air, and stopped with a hollow sound thump. I stared as an arrowhead sprouted from the centre of Thantos' chest. Thantos stared down at it in confusion and horror, his body stiffening. His club dropped harmlessly from his hand.

I scrambled safely away, and clambered to my feet, gulping in huge draughts of air.

* * *

Thantos crumpled to the ground. His focused his eyes on the young woman who had risen, and stood on shaking legs, a sorrowful expression upon her features. His vision blurred as his thoughts faded. He felt himself falling as a wild roaring filled his ears. Tears filled his eyes, and then his vision dimmed, and silence engulfed him.

* * *

Calassë picked up her sword, and gazed at her reflection in the metallic surface, wishing not to look at the body of the slain man that lay but a pace away from her. She could see that the still figure's eyes remained open.

Calassë lifted her eyes. Across the clearing, Bellethiel stood, a bow in her hand. At her side, D'Artagnan knelt upon the ground, clutching at a wound on his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers, his teeth clenched in pain even as he struggled to grin.

Bellethiel dropped the bow and smiled weakly as Calassë took a staggering step toward her. She stumbled, and as she fell to her knees, overcome with emotion and weariness, Bellethiel fell to her knees as well, throwing her arms about her neck. Peace filled Calassë's heart as she wrapped her arms about Bellethiel and pulled her close, pressing her face into her sweet smelling hair.

D'Artagnan struggled to conceal a smile as he watched the reunion of Calassë and Bellethiel. He blinked his eyes, pressing his hand against the blood running from the arrow wound of his shoulder, wincing at the memory of Bellethiel helping him pull it out. He swallowed, feeling a swell of pride that _he_ had taught Bellethiel the skill she had used to save the princess. D'Artagnan struggled to rise to his feet, though he crumpled back to his knees, his vision wobbling and fading as he did. He shook his head, and looked at his blood wet hand. How much blood had he lost?

His head felt heavy.

"My lady," he called, "Forgive me, but I feel-"

"D'Artagnan," Calassë called out as she and Bellethiel turned to him. Bellethiel rose, assisting Calassë who, D'Artagnan noted guiltily, had to stagger as she rose, leaning heavily upon the child.

"D'Artagnan, Nyx bless you," Calassë called, limping, with Bellethiel's help, toward the wounded captain. "You are a true friend."

"You are wounded, my lady," D'Artagnan muttered, struggling to rise, though his vision wavered as he did, and Bellethiel had to leave Calassë's side to grasp his arm wishing to help him rise, though D'Artagnan shook his head, and waved her assistance off. He knew if he tried to rise, his blood would rush from his head, and he would faint. A most unmanly misfortune if he did. His thoughts flashed to Calassë. What would she think of him, if she saw him _faint_?

Calassë smiled, though D'Artagnan could see concern in her violet eyes.

"As are you, I see, D'Artagnan."

"He had me pull the arrow out of his shoulder," Bellethiel said. "So that I could-," she shuddered as she glanced toward Thantos' still figure, "save you," she finished, before hiding her face against Calassë's stomach. Calassë's hand went to her hair, and D'Artagnan's heart softened at the obvious tenderness in her eyes.

His vision wavered, and a distant hum filled his ears.

Behind him, he thought he heard the clopping of horses' hooves, and of voices, taut with concern, calling their names. D'Artagnan tried to call out, to return their worried cries, but the last of his strength left him, and he fell into a wave of numb silence, grateful at least, that friendly hands seemed to catch his shoulders as he crumpled, and ease him gently into soft leaves beneath his head.

* * *

******Chapter fifty. The death of Thantos! YES! I know I basically just killed my own character, but this guy - whew!**

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	51. Longed For

**Chapter fifty-one**

Clio's first budding awareness, was of a cool, sweetly scented wind upon her face, the smooth touch of wrought silver beneath her hands, and then as if she were only drawing open her eyelids, a grand vista opened to her view, and she found herself standing upon a high balcony set atop a great mountain, the white slopes of which fell far and below her, down to where the gleaming white faded to the warm greys and browns of a mountain slope as the steep sides of the mountain eased into low rolling foothills of green and yellow before a strip of distant white sand met a vast, blue sea where the golden orb of the sun was only now rising in a glorious display into the sky. Her eyes were fixedly drawn to the eastern horizon as if she had long been standing thus, the wind in her hair, and catching in the soft white robes that enshrouded her.

Clio drew in a long, slow breath, letting the cool wind fill her lungs as she gathered her bearings. There was no pain in her chest now, yet the child she had been with mere moments ago was nowhere to be seen.

Drawing away her hands from the silver balustrade at her fingertips, she hugged her arms to herself, and allowed herself a short, brief smile even as questions and subtle fears entered her heart. Had she not overcome her fear of heights during the War against Sauron, she thought to herself as she gazed down the vast slope below her, she would be cringing now, and sulking quickly away, seeking some sanctuary away from this marvelous view.

"She smiles," a woman's voice, soft as a memory, murmured from behind her. Clio's breath stopped momentarily. She knew that voice. Well did she know it. And slowly she turned, her movements light and airy, to meet the gentle eyes of the woman and the man who stood behind her, watching her with such tenderness in their bright eyes.

"Mother," Clio breathed, gazing with eyes wide like a child's upon the woman whose delicate beauty shone from her face as the light of Nyx herself. And the tresses of her hair glittered, as the light of the stars themselves even as a playful smirk danced upon the bright beauty of her face. Her companion was no less her equal in masculine beauty, his lips drawing up in a smile as Clio turned her eyes upon him. Wise, and eternally youthful was his face as Clio studied his dear, familiar features.

"Father," Clio breathed, and at the word, Voronwë's smile broadened, as did Calathiel's.

"Clio," Voronwë murmured, pronouncing each word with feeling, his tone warm and strong, and achingly tender.

"Our child," Calathiel breathed in the voice Clio had known so well in her thoughts. She stepped forward, her arms drawing open and suddenly Clio found herself hurrying forward, her own arms outstretched like an eager child, and then she was in her arms. Her mother's arms. "My sweet child," Calathiel breathed against her hair, her slender arms clutching Clio close.

"Though always we have watched you from afar as you have grown, and listened to the brightness of your laughter, it is a new and long awaited joy to have you again in our company," Voronwë offered, his tones deep and warm and rich as his hand touched against Clio's hair. And though her face was turned against her mother's neck, she could hear the gladness and indeed the joyful tears in her father's voice.

"There were times when I almost envied her, when she held you in her arms," Calathiel sighed, her eyes dancing as Clio at last drew back enough to look upon the soft beauty of her mother. Clio furrowed her brow in quiet questioning, to which Calathiel smiled.

"Calassë, the child of Huoriel," Calathiel added with a soft laugh of merriment when Clio said nothing. "She who has been your mother, who raised you to become a beautiful, and brave woman, though grief caused her much pain. We have spoken of you, she and I. And she is very proud of you and of all you have achieved. She has healed well, little one," Calathiel murmured gently. "Though she has missed her parents and her friends."

"Shall I see her now?" Clio wondered, to which Calathiel and her lord again exchanged a look of bright merriment.

"In your own time, you shall see her," offered Voronwë warmly as he and his lady traded a smile.

"Our Lady Nyx told us of your bravery in the forests of Sanctus, for one of the daughters of Ironpine, that she might return to Calassë," Calathiel murmured, drawing back enough to catch Clio's hands in hers, and press a soft kiss to her brow. Calathiel and her lord traded a brief smile, yet Calathiel's smile faded as she gazed over Clio's sombre face as she turned her eyes down and studied her hands. Whole they seemed to her, unfaulted, yet she felt unfinished.

"What is it, my dear one?" she breathed gently.

"What is to become of me?" Clio queried softly.

"Ah, we are glad that you are here with us, little one," Voronwë's warm, rich tones warmed Clio to the core of her being as his hand came to rest against her hair. "So long we have been parted from you, and would that your time was over that you could stay with us-"

Clio drew in a shuddering breath as Voronwë smiled gently upon her, her father, his form and raiment as the sun itself. It should be a blessing to her, to be at last returned now, to her parents. Yet-

"But that is not your wish," he finished, his words a warm breath, and his eyes seeking her own. "Is it?"

Clio's heart caught in her throat, and she quickly glanced away.

"We hear her prayers, little one," Calathiel murmured reassuringly. "Even the quiet pleadings of her heart are known to us. As are the prayers of your kindred, and of the daughter of Raina. And we know the desires of your heart."

Clio released a deep breath.

"But not always are such pleadings answered as is wished," she murmured softly.

"Indeed," Calathiel murmured with a sad smile. "For always is the will of Nyx obeyed."

Clio dropped her eyes. "And I shall trust in Her will."

"As shall we," Voronwë added with a warm, gentle laugh, to which Clio could not withhold a tentative smile. "For we are subject to Her dictates, and will follow them, and take comfort in the promise that you are always our daughter, wherever you go."

Clio's eyes lifted quickly at this, to which the countenances of Calathiel and her lord glowed with warmth and joy to see the sudden light in her eyes.

"He possesses great skills of healing," Voronwë murmured, joy glowing within his eyes. "His skill is surpassed only by his love for you, my daughter. When we see you again, then shall be cause for even greater joy than this, for then you will truly be complete, so that you might have the fullness of joy that comes with completeness of being, and your beloved also, will then be at your side."

Clio smiled at this, and sweet hope rose suddenly in her heart.

"Soon enough we shall see you again, and he who for his love of you, will be kinsman to us!" Voronwë added with a deep laugh that rolled over her in warm waves. "And we will await that day with joy."

"You have time yet with your princess before you meet him," Calathiel breathed softly. "There is much good that you both shall yet render in Arryn. And there are children that shall come to you and your beloved, children who shall draw breath in that marred, yet still beautiful land."

"_Children?_" Clio wondered softly, drawing in a breath of joy. Calathiel only smiled at this, her fingertips again brushing against Clio's cheek.

"I love you, Clio, my daughter," Calathiel breathed softly.

"As do I love you, my little one," Voronwë added, his tones warm and quavering.

"Mother?" Clio gasped out. "Father?"

The scene about her was already fading in a white mist, even as she felt Calathiel's hand squeeze her own and withdraw, and voices, distant, seeming to echo in her ears from out of the distant east became clearer now.

* * *

******Chapter fifty-one. Aww, so much...FLUFFY FAMILY LOVE! I felt I had to do this; Clio was begging for her own chapter, so I just went with it!**

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******Calathiel: Light**

**********Voronwë: Faithful**

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	52. In the Halls of Healing

**Chapter fifty-two**

Moirae paused in the doorway, holding a basin of warm water a towel looped over her arm, uncertain if she wished to go nearer to the bed where Qui-Gon stood over the still form of Clio. Qui-Gon's hair was drawn back in a tight tail, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, a heavy apron cloaking his front; his hands and forearms stained with blood. Qui-Gon s broad back and a curtain kept Moirae from seeing Clio's head, but she remembered it well enough from when Qui-Gon had carried the unconscious maid through the corridors towards the healer's wing, Clio's face caked in blood both dried and wet.

"How is she?" she asked. Qui-Gon looked up fleetingly, then back at his patient.

"She's alive," he answered, his voice betraying his exhaustion. "It's a wonder her skull was not shattered by that blow. I had to withdraw a piece of wood embedded between flesh and bone."

Moirae felt herself flinch in sympathy as she clasped her hands before her. The poor man needed to hear the news she brought to ease the strain upon his mind.

"Qui-Gon," she said as she turned to the table beside the door, and set down the basin, laying the towel beside it, mindful of the nosy matron nearby. "Thalion and Padmé found the Captain, Bellethiel, and Calassë. They are bringing them now."

To this, Qui-Gon's shoulders visibly relaxed, and a deeply heaved breath escape him, though his eyes did not look up from his patient.

"Thank the Force. How are they?"

"Bellethiel is well, but the Captain and Calassë were both struck by arrows; Calassë in the thigh, and the Captain in the shoulder, who is unconscious. It is said he pulled the arrow out of his own shoulder, so that the Bellethiel could use it to slay the last bandit. They are both dead; Thantos...and Cybele."

Qui-Gon glanced at her, a fleeting look of astonishment in his eyes before he turned back to Clio.

"Bellethiel slew one of them?" he asked.

"Yes," she returned. "Thantos, so they say."

"There," Qui-Gon said at last, his voice trembling as he stepped back, his shoulders sagging in weariness. "The last of the stitches are finished." He turned, a tentative smile coming at last to his face as he strode to the basin. He dipped his bloodied hands in the steaming water, rubbing vigorously as the water turned a sickly crimson hue. "I must go see to Bellethiel, the Capitan, and Calassë. Clio will need to be moved soon to a bed where she can rest and recover. Until then, will you be able to-"

"I will do as you wish. Go now, and see to Calassë, and the others."

The Jedi shot her a look of deepest gratitude at this, and without another word, turned and strode out the door. With a sigh, Moirae glided toward the bed where Clio lay. She felt her shoulders stiffen as she gazed over the curtain and studied Clio's still face. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath the white coverlet.

The side of her head, once matted with dried blood, was cleaned now, and a ragged gash, between her ear and her temple had been stitched closed. Her long golden hair, just around the wound, had been clipped short. Moirae understood its necessity, so that Qui-Gon could the more easily treat the ragged gash, but still, she flinched as sympathy touched her heart. No doubt Clio would understand, and perhaps with her hair hanging free, it would not even be visible, but still, Clio's hair was her greatest pride. Releasing a sigh, Moirae moved around the narrow bed where Clio lay, to more easily to watch her while she slept, and dropped into a chair, her emerald eyes upon the milk-white face.

"I will never understand you Clio, doing something so reckless," she murmured, "but I don't begrudge you your reasons. And I am glad you talked us into coming back."

Clio did not respond, and only continued to breath silently. Still, Moirae was glad that she had spoken the words.

* * *

D'Artagnan hovered in a land of shadows and thoughts, and half remembered dreams. He felt as if he were in a chamber, a large pillared chamber, but the features were not clear, as if he were not fully present.

_Am I in the Blessed Realm?_ he wondered, trying to speak, though no sound came to his ears. Was he in bodily form? He felt as if he were; feeling the sensation of arms and legs, but all about him was so vague and dreamlike-

_D'Artagnan_.

The voice behind him he felt rather than heard, and D'Artagnan turned, surprised at the form of a woman behind him. She looked not fully corporeal, though he could see she was young. Behind her, D'Artagnan saw other shadows, other people, souls of people; his kin among them, perhaps? But he could not tell, for only she was clear to him. And she so looked like-

_You are the sister of Calassë_, D'Artagnan returned. _Your name is Lindariel_.

The maiden's lips smiled at this, giving him her answer. If D'Artagnan could have wept, he would have. She was so fair and young.

_Your sister misses you_, he offered not knowing what else he could say.

_I miss her also_, she said. _When you return, give __Calassë__ my greetings_. _  
_

D'Artagnan paused.

_H__ow will I make __Calassë__ know-_

_Remind my sister of the time she and I sat beneath the bows of our favourite tree, and she spoke to me of Adan as she wove flowers into my hair. _

D'Artagnan's chest ached at her words, but something pulled away him from the shadowed scene, into something more vague, as if he were now in his own dreams.

_D'Artagnan, I sensed your presence_- another voice whispered in his thoughts. He felt himself in a mist, but could not see her. Still, he knew her as he knew his own soul.

_I had to speak to you while you were in this dream realm. How I miss you!_

_But you know I have not yet completed my duty._

_Yes_.

_And you still love me?_

_Of course. We were unwise. I will not deny that we were. _

_I have failed you. I am so sorry._

_I know you are sorry. _

_Will I see you again?_ D'Artagnan pleaded_. Some day?_

_Perhaps. Trust to hope._

_I want to see you. Please. Even if it is only a shadow, only the faintest hint of you, please!_

D'Artagnan tried to turn about, to see something of her, some faint hint or shadow, or even the barest, faintest hint of her sweet scent of lilies...Then he saw it. The faintest shadow of a person-

"Huoriel?" he pleaded, reaching out a hand. He touched a soft cheek.

"Sir, kindly remove your hand from my face."

D'Artagnan withdrew his hand as the voice demanded, and blinked his eyes, the ceiling of the room coming into view. Beside him, sombre-faced, sat a grey-eyed, fair-haired man he did not recognise though he wore the same clothing as that Jedi that followed the princess around.

"Sir-" he grated, his voice feeling rough and dry in his throat.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. What is it?" his voice was not soft, but was gentle.

"I have a message for the princess from her sister."

* * *

******Chapter fifty-two. Wow, this one kind of dragged with me...Anyway.**

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	53. From One's Perspective

**Chapter fifty-three**

A sweet honey-like voice wafted throughout the great hall as the priestess chanted the final prayer of the service. Kneeling, D'Artagnan slowly lifted his head as he silently unclasped his hands, muttering a 'blessed be' and smoothing his fingers over the aged wood of the benches, absently wondering how many services it had seen and lived through up to that moment.

The great Temple that had been established by Queen Lairelithoniel at the beginning of her reign more then five thousand years ago was awe-inspiring. Tall, arching ceilings framed by the light allowed through stained glass windows created a hue in the air that seemed to be from heaven itself. All around were murals of Nyx, her son Eros, and dozens of angels with white, feathered wings that looked so real, the lady Bellethiel couldn't take her eyes off them.

As the soloist finished her lines every woman in the choir harmonized a slow, soothing 'Blessed be', at the end of which everyone rose to their feet to stretch their legs and step outside. D'Artagnan watched as, at the front of the long aisle, the princess's honoured guests rose from their knees as well, turning and acknowledging each other before moving away to speak to their friends and acquaintances, and leaving the princess alone for a few moments.

As always, D'Artagnan noted how beautiful the little princess looked, dressed in a gown of deep gold outlined in white fur, a solitary diamond at her throat, her hair brushed back and away from her face, looking soft and tempting as it cascaded down her back, gleaming in the sunlight pouring through the stained glass windows.

At that moment she could have been an angel from D'Artagnan's perspective.

As though feeling his eyes upon her, the young King turned towards D'Artagnan suddenly and blinked several times before seeming to make a silent decision and beckoned D'Artagnan over to her.

"Good morning, my lady," he commented graciously, though too formal for Calassë's taste.

Trying to break the ice, she chuckled. "I believe it is already afternoon by now, Captain."

Grimacing, the captain turned to look directly into her eyes.

"Please call me D'Artagnan," he all but whispered, and Calassë inwardly wondered at his tone.

"Of course…but only if you call me Calassë."

That brought forth a rare smile, and it was clear to both of them that, since the 'incident', something had shifted between them…something extremely important.

"As you wish, Calassë."

They stared at one another in companionable silence for a long moment before Calassë finally looked away, towards the ceiling, and sighed loudly, her shoulders rising and falling to accent her point. How she found herself wishing she could read the minds and hearts of men, so she could discover what was causing her faithful captain to become so solemn.

"It was such a beautiful service, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

D'Artagnan shrugged.

"Just that I've never cared for such things as services."

Calassë laughed at that.

"You mean to tell me that you are a questioner of your faith?"

That brought a smile to his face, despite the fact that everyone was watching them, and when he spoke his voice was heavy with meaning, something unknown to her hidden behind his courtier's mask.

"Is that not to your liking, Lady Calassë?"

"Just Calassë…"

"Forgive me…"

She looked at him steadily for several seconds, not even realizing that she was leaning closer to his body as she did so, as though pulled by some unseen gravitational force.

"I actually find it…soothing," she finally replied, shocking herself by being so open and forward. Unfortunately, before he could reply, he heard the sound of the lute player warming up his fingers, and Calassë jumped as though waking from a dream.

"I'd better go," she commented shyly. "I did promise to spend the day with Bellethiel, after all. Poor thing's still quite shaken."

"Somehow I think she will be just fine with her new mother," he replied without thinking, only realizing what he'd said after registering the surprised, but pleased, look on Calassë's face. He smiled, deciding it was okay after all to give her a compliment once in a while…so long as she didn't get the wrong idea.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Capitan " she commented happily, standing up slowly and beckoning for Master Jinn to come to her. As the Jedi approached, D'Artagnan felt almost desperate as he blurted out, "Might I request an audience with you this evening? Privately?"

After a moment, Calassë nodded.

"I seem to be quite popular today," she jested, "I'll be in my chambers after dinner; you may come see me then."

D'Artganan bowed, and watched as Calassë inclined her head gracefully before sweeping away on the arm of Jinn, and he watched her go with a certain amount of regret, almost feeling colder without her near him, before turning to go and find a target to reduce to splinters with his sword.

* * *

******Chapter fifty-three. Yay, two in one day! Delighted.**

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	54. Rocking Foundations

**Chapter fifty-four**

It was a warm night, and all the court rejoiced in the fact that the sky was still light, which meant the great fireplaces did not have to be lit in order to entertain and be merry at dinner time. Everyone seemed happy enough; the wine was flowing generously, servants rushing back and forth between the kitchens and the great hall with pitchers in hand, trying to keep up with the high demand, and there was laughter everywhere which grew louder and more boisterous every moment as the night wore on and the senses began to dull.

Yet I found myself lately growing weary of the boisterous crowds that flooded the banquet hall every night to have the honour of dining with the court. The endless chatter, the overwhelming collage of noises including the clanking of forks against plates and chairs scraping across the floor as people stood up and sat down, was fast becoming the trigger of many headaches, and I desperately wished I could be elsewhere, dining alone, or perhaps with Moirae or Bellethiel at my side.

Glancing up from where I sat at the banquet table, glancing to my left at the Captain, I sighed and shuddered at the memory of _that_ conversation. It had not gone well at all.

* * *

_"You cannot be serious!" I had all but screamed at him, feeling comfortable knowing no one could hear me through the thick door of the study._

_"I am being perfectly serious."_

_"Why now?" I had started pacing and waving my arms about frantically, annoyed at the fact that I was somewhat constrained by the sleeves of my gown. "What kept you from just staying silent? Why is everyone out to tell me that my mother - my** mother**, in who's very **veins **ran the blood of the ancient kings - **whored** herself to get an heir for this country!?"_

_"She did not **whore** herself!" D'Artagnan had glared at me._

_"Then what would you call it!? A **legal** 'tumble between the silks', as Padmé puts it? Don't make me **laugh!**"_

* * *

A servant placed a steaming bowl of hot stew before me, and I was momentarily shaken from my memory as I took a bite, allowing the soft meat and broth to warm my mouth for a time before swallowing, leaning my hand against my cheek thoughtfully.

* * *

_"You need to-"_

_"Do not even **presume** to order me to 'calm down', **Captain!**"_

_"You're failing to see that there is one fine line that needs to be handled!"_

_"What in the name of Nyx is **that** supposed to mean?"_

_"I mean that the longer I stayed silent, the worse the situation became for you!" __I had flinched at that. __"I can't live with these lies, Calassë."_

_I was reminded of a similar statement that Papa - I mean, Landion_-_ had made before, and had sighed in frustration._

_"I'm not saying you should. I'm saying that even if I acknowledged you as a father there'd be war - and Arryn would be riddled with pretenders."_

_"Why don't you tell your friends?"_

_I had flared at that statement. __"Because I'm the princess, you dolt! Why else? They might be my friends now, but someday, I'll be alone again! A princess must **NEVER** disclose such-such-**information** to a mere friend! Particularly if there is **no** evidence!"_

_D'Artagnan had narrowed his eyes at me before turning his back on me, heaving a huge sigh._

_"This is what I get for telling a man anything," I had muttered rebelliously._

_He whirled on me once more. __"I beg your pardon?"_

_"You know what I mean! I tell you one thing, and suddenly you think you have the right to tell me what to do in every aspect of my life!"_

_"I thought we were friends, at least! I thought friends gave each other advice!"_

_That had snapped what little control had remained, and I had to physically keep myself from launching forward and clawing at his face with my hands._

_"A lowly **captain** will not advise me on how to handle my own life!"_

_"I am your **FATHER!**"_

_"You are not anything of the sort! Forget this - **all** of this!"_

_"You are asking me to do something treasonous against my heart!"_

_"Then you will **die** a **traitor**, for all I care!" I had shrieked, pointing at the door, "Now get out, and from now on stick to what you're good at, **Captain**; planning battles and training!"_

* * *

Several people shot me curious looks, and I blinked in surprise as I realized that I was so upset my hand was shaking, splattering small droplets of soup from my spoon onto the table. Blushing, I gently set the spoon back in the bowl and placed my hands in my lap, wringing them together under the table where no one could see.

The memory of that argument…of what he had said…still burned fresh in my mind even though it had been nearly two days ago, and ever since I had refused to speak with him about anything. He had even attempted to contact me, sending a brief message that he wanted to meet me in my study, but I had openly (and foolishly, I now decided) refused the request.

"Lady Calassë?" I shook my head and looked over at Qui-Gon, seated, as usual, to my right, a concerned look in his eyes. "What's wrong? You seem far away tonight."

I did my best to smile for the Jedi, wanting to assure him that all was well, desperate to make sure I didn't isolate any of the friends I had left.

"I'm fine, Qui-Gon…just a little tired, that's all."

"But your hand was shaking a minute ago," he pressed, touching my hand kindly. "Are you sure that's all?"

At first, I opened my mouth to affirm my previous statement, but then, without thinking, looked away as tears began to spill out the corners of my eyes, and it was all I could do to keep the sobs from shaking my body to its very core.

"Forgive me, my lord…I am not well."

"Calassë, please tell me what's wrong…I want to help you, but I just don't know how."

"I…" I began to speak, but then suddenly became aware of the fact that nearly everyone on their half of the large dining table was staring at us curiously, wondering what was going on to have the heir to the throne apparently near tears.

Blushing, I shook my head and rose to my feet awkwardly, bringing Qui-Gon with me and leaning into his strong frame for support as he placed a hand under my elbow to support me.

"I think I'm in the mood for a stroll in the gardens, my lord," I announced in what I hoped was a cheerful voice, no matter how artificial it sounded to me. Instantly catching my meaning, Qui-Gon nodded, though he did not smile, and began guiding me around her chair and towards the door.

But as I turned, I stumbled on my blue skirts and was forced to catch myself on the nearest available sturdy object, which turned out to be the outstretched arm of none other than D'Artagnan.

What an odd picture that made, myself leaning against D'Artagnan's arm, his deep blue eyes gazing into my own with concern as he tried to understand what was going on, all the while Qui-Gon still having a hold about my waist from behind. If the mood had not been so tense, I might have actually laughed, for no expert painter could have ever created a more perfect scene to portray the chaos that had become my life.

Blinking, almost afraid to move, I blushed from my head to my toes as I slowly moved away from D'Artagnan, bowing my head slightly as a curtsy would have been impossible with my legs still in an extremely off-balance stance.

"Fo-forgive me, Captain, it was an accident."

D'Artagnan continued to look at me, his gaze unwavering, before finally looking away and shrugging, waving his arm, the same arm that had caught me, before him in a casual gesture of indifference.

"It is forgotten, my lady."

Regaining my footing, I inclined my head quickly, muttered a soft 'thank you' that only D'Artagnan could hear, and hurriedly exited the room with Qui-Gon fast on my heels, leaving the rest of the court to stare after us with curious eyes.

* * *

**Chapter fifty-four. So now we finally know who Calassë's daddy is! Zomg!**

**Check out my Facebook for my pictures: **www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

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**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	55. Shatter

**Chapter fifty-five**

Slowly, mechanically, we moved towards the grand staircase and began to climb the steps one at a time, my injured leg forcing me to lean heavily on one of the stone rails each time I had to step up with my left foot and put all my weight on my right until finally, we mercifully reached the second floor and turned to the left, where at the end of the hall, were my chambers. The large mahogany doors all but slammed behind us.

"What's wrong?"

"I...I'm sorry," I mumbled, wiping my eyes with my sleeve, "I need a minute. I'll be fine."

"Calassë." I peeked up at him. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I just...had a moment."

"Calassë."

"It was nothing."

"Calassë."

"It was nothing!"

"Calassë!" He grasped my forearms tightly. "Stop _lying _to me!"

As if his touch was a key, my emotions unlocked - and all hell broke loose.

"How dare you touch me!"

I slapped his hands away sharply, but he seemed completely oblivious to my rage, instead focused on his own private mission.

"Calassë, tell me what's wrong," he ordered, "How the Force can I protect you if I don't know what I'm protecting you from?"

I bristled even more and straightened my back, lifting my chin proudly into the air despite the fact that my entire body was practically shaking from exhaustion, my hair falling wildly about my face in curled tendrils. Under the protection of a Jedi or not, I was a Daughter of the House of Séregon, and more than that, I was poised to become Queen…and I was also very, _very_ angry.

"I simply had a disagreement, if you must know," I finally retorted, my voice adopting an icy façade. "And the last time I checked, disagreements were not illegal."

I thought there was a flash of concern or worry in Qui-Gon's eyes, but it was instantly gone, leaving me to wonder as the Jedi took another step forward.

"Did you argue with Moirae again?" he sighed, as if dealing with a disobedient child. I bristled.

"It is nothing to do with Moirae."

We stared at one another for several silent seconds, as though measuring the other to determine who would give first before Qui-Gon moved to sit against the large desk, which rested beside a roaring fire.

"I am not happy," he finally spoke with an expelled breath. "Frankly, I'm furious."

"I don't care," I snapped, "Leave me."

With a nod of exasperation, Qui-Gon slipped outside, shutting the door behind him quietly. Agitatedly, I began running my hands through my hair wildly, inhaling sharply, pacing in frantic, almost wild circles as my fingers dislodged all the carefully placed pins from my hair, allowing it to fall all over my shoulders and down my back in a wild, uncombed mess.

I didn't care.

Unsure of exactly _what_ I needed, I found myself staggering towards my bed in desperation, falling to my knees and burying my head in my hands on the mattress covered in blue and white fabric. I just lay there, my body going suddenly still, and countless words came back to me, voices echoing in my mind.

_"What do you mean, they're **gone?**"_

_"Just that, my lady…your Lord father and Lady mother tried their best to defend the city of Gohrvalt, and, well..."_

_"You mean they're dead, don't you? Why won't anyone just say that to me? My parents are dead! They are dead and are never coming back!"_

_"Hush, my lady, it will be alright…"_

_"I want them back, Moirae! I want them back!"_

_"I do too, my lady…I do too…"_

I felt my eyes squeeze shut against the pain of that memory. I could recall the look on Moirae's face as she told me, and then the feel of her arms as she held me and rocked me back and forth. After that moment, I would not allow anyone else to touch me but Moirae.

Moirae, a servant. Moirae, a beloved friend. Moirae, who understood me so well. Moirae, who was practically a mother to me since our childhood…

"_Moirae? Moirae? What's wrong? Don't you like it?"_

"_My lady, it's beautiful...but far too much for a maid!"_

"_I want you to have it, Moirae. __I'm going to miss you so much."_

"_I know, I'll miss you too."_

I hated to think about the years that had followed, with all the pain, and all the suffering. All the loneliness and the sense of being rejected when my parents and my own sister had stopped writing, and then the sense of betrayal when they had attempted to betroth me without my permission, knowing how much I had longed for a romantic marriage. Of course, that hadn't lasted, as the man had died in Gohrvalt with my parents.

I recalled that first day at Yean, when I arrived and, feeling overwhelmed, had sough solace in the gardens, only to find that fate did not mean for me to find solace there, but instead intended to plant the seeds of a love that I would never be rid of. A love that would cause so much pain in the end…

"_What is your name?"_

"_Calassë, of Séregon."_

"_So you are the sister of the Lady Lindariel?"_

"_Yes, though I would prefer if you just forget about that."_

"_Why? I should think you would be honored to be the sister of the future Queen."_

"_I consider it no honour."_

How things had changed since then, and not just between myself and Adan, but also between myself and my family. Where once I had felt an immense amount of love and respect, now all I felt was pity and a growing sense of rage.

Lindariel…the sister I loved so much. Why did she then have to make life so difficult? How could she have asked me to sacrifice so much for duty? How? Why?

"_Have you been talking to that boy again?"_

"_I don't think that it's any of your business."_

_"__Calassë!_"

_"It isn't!"_

"_Calassë__, I mean it. I want you to promise me that you won't see this boy again. I forbid it."_

"_Oh stop it. You'll give yourself a nosebleed."_

"_You don't understand! Gossip is a dangerous beast, little sister. And if things get too far out of control, its hostility will turn on you."_

"_On me? I doubt that."_

"_They will hate you, __Calassë, if this continues_. That is the nature of the court. They will slander anyone above them if it means watching that person fall."

I felt something…something cruel...something that caused me to fear...

"_Calassë__, you can't tell anyone about this, do you understand? It would ruin me. It would absolutely ruin me, and any chance I have of ruling this country…"_

"_Don't you trust me at all, Lindariel?"_

"_Calassë__…Of course I do."_

"_Then what are you worried about?"_

"_Take a guess, you fool!"_

"_Then maybe I can help you keep it, and share your burden. Who else knows besides me?"_

_"A lady-in-waiting of mine. She will keep silent."_

"_Not Mother or Papa?"_

"_No."_

Lindariel had wept that night, and remembering her quivering, so unsure, about the depths of sin that she had fallen into caused tears to come to my eyes. She fell into sin...like me. I loved him. I _loved_ him! And yet he could never be mine. Instead, he belonged to the Jedi Order, who seemed to appreciate what they had less and less every day. All I did know, all I had to hold onto, was the fact that I loved him now, and would always love him, until the day I died...

"_And I suppose that you hate Queen Lairelithoniel, like everyone else does."_

"_Why would I hate her?"_

"_Well, because…because Lairelithoniel betrayed her husband. She had a lover behind her husband's back for many years, and most anyone who reads the story thinks that makes the Queen despicable."_

"_Well I don't hate them."_

"_And why not? Adultery is wrong…you know that."_

_Adultery is wrong_…I knew that, and yet I longed for him, for the man I couldn't have. I wished he could be mine, to have and to hold for the rest of my life. I wished I had never met him in the first place! And yet, had I not, I never would have gotten past the pain and grief in the first place…never known such love…such pain…

"_Calassë__?"_

"_Yes, Qui-Gon?"_

"_Which one of them are you, and which one am I?"_

"_I beg your pardon?"_

"_Lairelithoniel or her knight…which one are you?"_

"_Well, you're a knight, and strong…so I suppose that speaks for itself. And as for me, well, I'm no Queen yet."_

Such pain…and such love…

"_Who's to say the Lady __Calassë_ is all that honest?"

"_That's right…haven't you heard the way she's been defending her sister lately, and criticizing those who speak the truth? Would you call that honest?"_

Such love…such betrayal…and the hypocrisy of the court. Two more tears slid down my cheeks, and I was fighting the urge to wipe them away, that urge continuing to grow in the pit of my stomach…growing and growing…threatening to overcome all reason…

"_I can't live with these lies, Calassë!__"_

"No…" I whimpered above the roar of voices in my head.

"_Now get out, and from now on stick to what you're good at, Captain; planning battles and training!_"

"I'm so…"

"_Lairelithoniel or her knight…which one are you?__"_

"Qui-Gon…"

_"I would have you love whom you will."_

"I…"

"_My, my, Calassë! You're very regal all of a sudden!_"

"I can't..."

"_Think about your own happiness!"_

"I love _you_, Qui-Gon," I whimpered to no one in particular, feeling my control begin to break…begin to snap…

"_I worry about you, my lady."_

"I'm fine," I replied to the memory, as though I were losing my grip on sanity. That sense continued to grow, and I thought I would burst.

_"You're making a martyr of yourself!"_

"No…" the whimper grew stronger than before, and that sense nearly caused something to burst and my lungs to explode from the pressure…

_"I'm no Queen yet."_

"No..."

"_He's not worth it!"_

"No..."

_"I'm no Queen!"_

"NO!" And with that, the sensation broke, and I felt something within me snap, the dam releasing everything. "NO! NO! NO!"

I all but screamed the last time I said it, and, without even realizing what was happening, my hand flew out and knocked the chained ruby ring, my precious treasure, off my bedside table and smashed against the wall, the sound echoing as something I would never forget.

The pieces of the once jewel scattered all over the floor, leaving hardly anything to show that they had once made up beautiful rubies, the noise of the impact, followed by the scattering of the pieces, slowly fading away to leave nothing but a deathly quiet that was mocked only by the sound of the wind beyond her open windows.

At first, I was unsure of what had happened; unwilling to accept that my precious ring, the only link that remained between myself and Adan, was gone, and that it was my fault. I could hardly believe that something I had cherished for so long, taken such pains to preserve all this time, could now, in an instant, have vanished, but it had. Just like Lindariel on the day she went out riding and never came back because she jumped a fence that was too high in her eagerness to return home.

And with that, the tears came, along with a cry that tore from my throat and echoed throughout the room and into the air beyond the stone walls.

_"**NO!**"_

* * *

******Chapter fifty-five. NO! Not the ring! (it was mentioned in Thawing; I just had it hidden away for a while. Why, Calassë, why!?**

******Apologies for delay; I've a show coming up, and rehearsals have been very demanding. However, it might please some people to know that this book is drawing to an end, and the final book in the Thawing Trilogy will begin soon! **

******Also, sorry if this chapter seems a little bit scatty; but hey, that amount of pressure on one girl? She was going to crack sooner or later. **

******Check out my Facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

**Please review! They keep me going!**

**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	56. Without Thinking

**Chapter fifty-six**

The door was thrown open just as Calassë fell to the floor, and Qui-Gon rushed in, looking wild with worry and fear, clearly expecting to find something much worse than what he actually did: Calassë rocking back and forth, hugging her knees to her chest and whispering something inaudible over and over again. Sighing, telling his heart to slow its frantic beating, he slowly rose back up to his full height (for he had been crouched in a battle stance, prepared to take on an enemy), convincing himself that Calassë truly was alright, and that she wasn't being murdered, or dead already, as her screaming had led him to believe.

Then, once the immediate concern wore off, the Jedi felt a small twinge of annoyance and, with one swift slam of the door that would mean they were alone, he glanced at her, trying to keep his temper under control.

"What were you thinking, screaming like that?" he asked, as calmly as he could.

But Calassë didn't respond, and Qui-Gon felt his temper deflate almost as quickly as it had come on, a small amount of trepidation creeping back into his subconscious. And it was then that he saw the shards all over the floor before her, the body of a ring still mostly intact, its merry twinkle seeming to mock her from where it lay on the stone floor.

"Calassë…" Her name came off his lips in a breathless whisper, and Qui-Gon feared for a moment that she had lost her mind as he walked forward carefully, listening carefully as her words became audible at last.

"Adan, forgive me…forgive me, Adan…I didn't mean to…Papa, please help me…Papa…"

Qui-Gon recalled her telling him once before that it was Adan who had given her the golden ring, and understood that this had to be a tremendous loss for her. He knew all too well the importance of objects that had belonged to deceased loved ones. Qui-Gon rubbed his hands on his tunic nervously as he sat down beside her, and for the first time she seemed to notice his presence as she stopped speaking and rocking and raised her head from where it had been buried in her arms. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks were streaming with tears, her hair wild and unkempt about her shoulders, her dress practically falling off because she'd sat down without care of moving her skirts out of the way.

"Qui-Gon…"

His name came off her lips in a stammer, her voice catching, raw from heartfelt sobs, and he felt, suddenly, the desperate need to wipe such sorrow from her face, and to put the smile he loved so much back where it belonged.

"Calassë, what's wrong? What happened?"

The dam broke again, and she started crying once more in earnest. She threw her arms around his neck, leaving him to put his arms back around her waist and hold her gently to his chest, running a hand through her hair absentmindedly.

"I didn't mean to break it, Qui-Gon, it just happened! I was so angry, and then...I just couldn't stand it!"

Qui-Gon nodded. Weeks of strain were finally starting to wear her down; not that he was surprised. And no one, to his memory, had ever done anything to thank her or ease her worries.

"Calassë," He suddenly felt guilt weighing down upon him, pushing him into the floor, and he clutched the precious girl, the wonderful woman who was sacrificing so much for everyone else, to his chest tightly, as though he would never let her go. "Calassë, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

"I'm just tired, Qui-Gon," she whimpered against his chest.

"I know."

"I wish it would all stop. I wish people wouldn't be so cruel. I wish I had never come home. I wish I didn't love my sister so much. I wish…" She almost said she wished she didn't love him, but stopped herself, knowing that would be a lie.

"I know, Calassë," he tried to sooth her, rocking back and forth even harder, pressing her tighter to his chest, almost as though to squeeze the words out of her so she couldn't talk any more. "I'm so sorry for all of it. I wish I could take it, I really do. I wish I could protect you from it. I wish I could protect you from the world…"

"Do you, Qui-Gon?" She asked, snuffling against his shoulder. He nodded without hesitation.

"Yes, I do. You deserve someone's protection. You deserve to have someone at your side who loves you and won't let you come to any harm."

"Like Lairelithoniel had her knight?" She swallowed. At that they both froze, Calassë unsure of why she had said such a thing, and Qui-Gon unsure of what to say in response.

Slowly, painfully, they pulled apart so that Calassë sat back in his lap and his arms remained loosely about her waist. They stared at one another intently in the growing darkness, the fire the maids had started in the fireplace before dinner quickly dying out, the moonlight flooding the room, framing the pair by stars…

And the magic began to return…the magic that always seemed to return at night…

"Yes, Calassë…" Qui-Gon finally replied, his voice low and unfamiliar as it contained something she had never heard from a man speaking to her before. His voice was raw with desire, and it caused something else besides pain to spark in her body, rekindling that familiar feeling that always surfaced when he touched her.

"Qui-Gon…" She reached out blindly and found his face, tracing his jaw, touching his lips with her fingers. She felt him draw closer even as the fire went out completely and they were left in darkness, only their silhouettes visible.

"…just as Lairelithoniel had her knight."

Calassë barely had time to draw another breath before she felt his lips firmly, almost possessively press themselves against her own, and this time there was no hesitation, no sense of either of them pulling back as she greedily wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, wanting to feel the contours of his chest against hers, wanting the comfort of his presence...the comfort of knowing that somebody cared, if just for one night.

Qui-Gon felt her respond, and felt himself grow even more hungry, if that were possible, for her touch, her kisses…for Calassë. He wanted her, needed her love more than he had ever needed anything in his entire life.

"Calassë..."

And now she was giving herself to him, and he was taking without even thinking. He didn't care if he would regret the action later, and neither did she. All thought of right and wrong faded from their memory, along with everyone else. Tonight, they would give each other what they wanted and damn anyone else. Tonight they would finally allow their hearts to speak instead of their minds. Tonight, for just a little while, they would allow themselves to be happy…and that would be enough.

* * *

******Chapter fifty-six. AHH! It finally happened! WOO!**

******Check out my Facebook for my pictures: ** www. facebook pages /Princess -Kanakos -Fanfiction / 516288011749438? ref= hl **(just remove all the spaces!) of this fanfic!**

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**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	57. Advise

**Chapter fifty-seven**

As sound was the first sense to return, I became instantly aware of the chirping of birds in the trees below my window, intermixed with the soft breathing of the form behind me, spooned against my back. I felt a heavy arm draped over my waist, while my own hands were tightly fisted at my chest, my legs curled up underneath me so that I was resting in a ball.

The light of morning had penetrated the windows of my chambers, flooding the space with sunshine. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Feeling the urge to stretch, I rolled onto my back, careful not to disturb the sleeping man beside me as I pushed my arms up and away from my body as though to touch the top of the canopy covering my bed. My muscles sighed as I brought my hands back to rest once more on my stomach, and for the first time in many weeks, I smiled a full, genuine smile, feeling content in a way I'd never before thought possible.

Glancing to my left, I observed the sleeping Jedi Knight, his features relaxed, his hair spilling out around him and providing a soft contrast to my own hair where they met on the pillows. His bare back and shoulders, even relaxed, displayed rock hard muscles under his skin, which was slightly tan and seemed to glow in the morning sun, and his powerful hands were currently resting at my side, facing palm up.

I shivered, recalling the feel of those hands on my skin, knowing all too well how strong they were.

A faint blush came to my cheeks at the thought, and I rolled over so that he couldn't see my embarrassment as I recalled what had transpired during the night. It had been so wonderful, and yet so innocent…so incredibly beautiful.

He had been so gentle with me, so kind and understanding. The thought caused me to realize that there was still so much I had to learn about this man beside me…this Jedi who seemed so transparent at first glance but who, upon further inspection, had seemingly infinite numbers of layers to his personality which one could spend a lifetime learning to understand.

How I wished I could spend my life discovering all those layers, coming to understand the man I loved…

The sound of a long, lazy intake of air came from behind, telling me that my partner was stirring, and I stilled myself, waiting for him to make the first move, suddenly feeling unsure of myself with the magic of the night gone as daylight poured into the room.

I felt hesitant fingers come to rest on my shoulder, and I could almost see the struggle on Qui-Gon's face as he no doubt tried to determine whether or not I was awake, and if he should say anything.

"Calassë?" When he spoke, his voice was adorably soft and unsure.

"Yes, Qui-Gon?"

I heard him sigh, feeling his body shift slightly. "Are you alright?"

The question was so innocent and so thoughtful that my lips curved upward.

"No. I feel a little sore, but I think that's normal."

"Good." He brushed a lock of hair off of my face tenderly as I turned to face him, pulling the sheet down slightly. "I would never want to hurt you."

"I know."

A smile playing on his lips, he moved forward and caught my lips in a gentle kiss that left my head swimming. I giggled softly as his beard tickled my chin, and he placed his hand behind my head to hold me in place.

_This is heaven. I have truly found heaven, right here in his arms…_

* * *

"You'd best just say what is on your mind, Obi," Moirae finally said briskly, watching as her husband paced the marbled floor of the Council Chambers. "Though I think I know what this is about."

"No, you don't," he replied sharply, stopping briefly to look her in the eye. "It's not about _that_, Moirae."

That caused her temper to flare, and she was offended by the thought that he didn't even care about what he had done enough to talk about it.

"So we're not even going to talk about it now? Are we just going to pretend it never happened?" Moirae crossed her arms. "I think you owe me an explanation for the way you've treated me, _husband_."

The hanyou stopped and glared at her.

"Why do you women always have to complicate matters?"

"I beg your pardon?" She blinked.

"You always make everything about you!"

"I do not!"

"Yes you do!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Ugh," Moirae rolled her eyes and turned away in a huff, wondering if they would ever be able to have a normal conversation. "If it's not about _that_, then tell me what the problem is so that I can go."

Obi-Wan paused, seeming to clarify something in his mind, before finally nodding to himself and walking over to the huge round table, which was piled high with papers, removing two neatly folded pieces from the top of the stack. He brought them over to Moirae, and she stared at his hand stupidly when he held it out to her.

"The way I've been treating you has had nothing to do with what happened," _almost_, he added silently, "And everything to do with these."

"You're still not off the hook, mister," she huffed, taking the two folded pieces of paper in her hands and opened the first one, trying to understand what was so important about what appeared to be a couple of letters…but then she gasped as she began to read.

There was a heavy silence when she finished reading, the voices of two great Jedi Masters echoing in Moirae's mind as she tried to understand what was going on, but in the end it was all too much for her, and she didn't have the ability to refold the second letter due to the violent shaking of her hands. These were the letters written by the hands of some of the greatest men the universe had ever seen. Never could she have believed…never in a million years…that Obi-Wan would show her these…the letters the rest of the court would die to know about and be able to read as she had just done.

Looking up, her confusion was evident by her wide-eyed expression.

"Obi…why? I don't understand…"

"I told you before that I needed your advice," he replied.

"But…why in Nyx's name would you choose me?"

"Because I have poured over these damned letters a thousand times and cannot figure out what would be wise, that's why!"

Moirae jumped slightly at his outburst, but then pacified her temper and sighed, setting the letters down on the table and looking back at her husband in a new light. She saw the lines on his face which told her he hadn't been sleeping, and could practically see the heavy burden weighing down upon his shoulders.

In that moment her heart went out to him, and Moirae found herself moving in his direction, tempted to touch him, to smooth away the worry on his face, to release the tension in his jaw with her lips…

"What would you have me advise you on, my lord husband?"

Obi-Wan turned and looked at the woman who had moved beside him, noting her serene face and soft expression, her eyes deep and glittering, and in that moment, he thanked the Force he had found the one person that would never desert him, even if the rest of the universe came crashing down around his ears. She would stand by him, defend him, love him…and that thought was comforting.

"I would know your thoughts, my lady wife," he finally replied, "And would like to know how best to break this news to...the others."

Moirae nodded and glanced back at the letters once more on the table before looking back at her husband and thinking about the right way to phrase what was running through her mind at that particular moment.

* * *

******Chapter fifty-seven. Ooh! What the Force is going on? Anyway, apologies for not updating for ages. Life has been throwing curveballs at me...and then there was the writer's block...*shudder*.********  
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	58. Raindrops

**Chapter fifty-eight**

Qui-Gon shut the heavy door behind him, leaning against the wood as he glanced around his chambers. His bed was still neatly made, as he had not slept there last night. He pressed a hand to his forehead, turning his thoughts away from the night's activities, and focusing on the inescapable fact that the entire universe was at war. Quickly and efficiently, Qui-Gon packed his bags and pulled on his Jedi cloak. There was one person he had to stop and see before he left. One important goodbye he had to make.

Before he could arrange his thoughts, he heard a frantic banging on the door, and he opened it, confused. In front of him, her indigo eyes brimming with tears, her skin paler than he had ever seen it, was Clio.

"Master Jinn!" the littlest maid sobbed, throwing herself at him. "I went to the Council Chambers and Moirae said you had left, and then I checked with Master Kenobi and he said you went to your room, and Bellethiel said you were leaving! It's a lie, isn't it?"

Clio looked at him, searching his face, and then her shoulders dropped, her face sinking.

"No. It's not a lie."

"But..." Clio asked, sounding hurt and confused. "Why?"

"Lots of reasons, Clio, but the war is the most important of them," Qui-Gon replied tiredly. "I'm sorry, Clio. I really am. But I'm leaving today."

And then Clio said the crucial words which broke Qui-Gon's calm façade.

"What about Lady Calassë?"

Qui-Gon's hands flexed involuntarily.

"I don't know, Clio. But the lady will have to accept the fact that I am unable to protect her anymore," he managed, and the two friends gripped each other, Clio sobbing into his breast, Qui-Gon resisting the urge to bury his face into her hair and cry too. They stood there, holding each other, cementing the bond they had formed through friendship so many years ago, when Clio pulled away, wiping her eyes.

"I have to go see Lady Calassë," Qui-Gon said quietly. "Clio, please. Take care of her for me."

"Always," Clio swore. And then she took Qui-Gon's hand in a powerful grip that belied her small size, their fingers interlacing as they locked eyes.

"If you don't make it through this, I swear that when I find you in the next world, I will make your life a living hell," she said quietly, her eyes flashing.

"I understand," he whispered. "Stay safe. Stay strong."

"May Nyx bless and watch over you," Clio said, her lower lip wobbling again. As Qui-Gon shouldered his pack and set off down the hall, Clio shook her head.

* * *

I knew it in my heart, in my soul, in my mind. My instincts were screaming, my mind was numb, my heart shattering as I knew, somehow, that he was leaving.

Leaving.

Going.

Turning his back.

But I denied it, clung to the hope that he would stay, always, and then we would have a happy ending. I clung to it selfishly, jealously. I tried to lose myself in the beautiful colours of the blooming flora of the garden, tried to feel the caress of the cool rain on my face. But it was no use, and I knew it, knew it with every fibre of my being, and the tiny hope I carried died, the instant I saw him approaching.

Oh _Nyx_, he was beautiful.

I didn't know how I had missed it before. His hair was longer now, and he no longer looked like the calm, gentle, orderly Jedi I had seen when we had first met all those years ago. He resembled a warrior of old, like a knight that would battle fierce creatures to free the trapped maiden from her tower. And those eyes...Oh _Nyx_, those eyes that shimmered every shade of blue kept me in place like a frozen deer, the rain running down my face and drenching my clothes. And as he drew closer to me, I realized for the first time how small I was, how breakable, compared to his strength.

"I came to say goodbye."

Spying Moirae and Obi-Wan watching under the awning, I turned my back to them and focused on a blooming violet rose, touching the damp petals with a shaking finger.

"Why?"

Even though it was asked, I knew the answer. He _knew_ I knew

"Calassë-"

"Why are you leaving?" I repeated.

"Calassë, look at me," he ordered, and he slid his beneath my chin, tilting my face around to face him. His face was calm, but his eyes betrayed his feelings. He was as torn up as I was. "Why do you need me to stay?"

"I don't know," I fumbled, caught off guard. "I ...I need a companion, a mentor, a friend to guide me. I'm useless as a Jedi, hopeless as a shrine maiden of Yean. I need to _be_ something, I need _someone_."

_I need you,_ I said silently.

"You _are_ something," Qui-Gon countered, and I bit my quivering lip. "You are a symbol of hope to your people, a beloved and cherished princess. You have the makings of greatness in you – I can _feel_. You are destined for greatness."

"But perhaps not the greatness you envision," I said softly, meeting his eyes once again. "Qui-Gon, I'm not as clear-cut as you think." I tried to draw back, to blurt my shameful secret that my parents hid from me, but his arms encircled my waist and drew me tightly to him, his eyes dark with desire as our lips hung mere inches apart.

"Please, Qui," I whispered, the fond nickname dropping smoothly from my lips, "Tell me. Why are you leaving?"

In answer, he kissed me.

My fingers reached up cautiously and met around the back of his neck, kissing him deeply, sweetly, softly. His hands, those strong hands, cupped my face and entwined in my soaked hair. The kiss was sweet, soft, gentle, yet filled with passion. And there was that same fire, a flame ready to ignite my flesh the way it ignited my soul as I kissed him fervently.

"That's why," he whispered huskily, as we parted. "I can't stay here because I love you."

The rain fell, pattering softly against the stone, the flowers, and my frozen body.

"I've been so stupid, so blind..." he half-mumbled, and glanced down at me. "So blind," he repeated. "I'm in love with you, Calassë, Lady of the House of Séregon. I have been for so long."

He tilted my head and nipped my neck; a low, feral growl rising from his chest.

"Calassë..." he whispered, and his voice made me melt as I recalled the last time he whispered my name like that. That deep, baritone voice, edged with velvet and silk, and I wanted to hear him whisper again, wanted to hear him say so much more. But I stilled myself, and finally embraced the truth that had been niggling in my mind for so long. I stood on tiptoe, his beard tickling my cheek and neck as my lips found his ear.

"Qui-Gon, I love you."

Those words, permanent, true, and damning. Words which connected us. Words which could damn me, curse me, and tear my soul from my body. Words which warmed my heart like nothing else.

He bent down once more and pressed a final, chaste kiss against my cold lips.

"I'm sorry, Calassë."

He left, leaving me in the garden as a cold wind blew, with nothing but his words in my mind, and the pain of a shattered heart in my breast.

* * *

******Chapter fifty-eight. Noooooo! Qui-Gon's gone! Sadly, fellow **Duty****** lovers, this story is nearly at it's end. There is only one chapter remaining now.********  
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**Much love, Princess Kanako x**


	59. Duty

**Chapter fifty-nine**

"Princess?" Moirae whispered as she pushed open the door to Calassë's chambers. Said princess was curled up on the window seat, wrapped in a thin silk robe while the rain lashed at the window. "Lady Calassë."

At that, the young princess turned, her still-damp locks sliding down her shoulders.

"Moirae," she replied quietly, "What is it?"

Moirae swallowed, rubbing a hand across her stomach as she went to stand by Calassë's shoulders.

"Master Kenobi has left, my lady," she answered shakily, "And Master Jinn with him, though Lady Padmé has decided to stay."

"I see."

"Are you alright, my lady?" she asked, coming to her knees so that she was eye-level with Calassë, emerald green boring into soft violet. Both women remained silent for a moment, just gazing at one another, the only sound being the crackling of the fire contrasted with the wind howling around the palace. .

"I'm fine," she replied at last. Reaching up, she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her other hand, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. "I've just been sitting here too long."

"Maybe you should get dressed," Moirae finally commented lightly as she leaned back on her heels, placing both her hands over one of Calassë's so that they all rested on her lap.

"If you insist," she sighed, casting a gaze full of longing towards the window, before standing and allowing Moirae to propel her towards the changing screen. Not more than twenty minutes later, she emerged, her hair carefully coiled into a bun as Moirae straightened her skirts of cream and looped a string of pearls around her neck.

Almost ironically, Calassë recalled the comment she'd made to her sister the day they sat by the riverbank and wove flower crowns, when Lindariel had been excitedly describing her wedding dress, and how it would be outlined in pearls to emphasize virgin innocence and beauty. Calassë had said then that pearls also represented tears, and that each pearl was supposed to represent a tear that would be shed on account of the man a woman loved.

At that point, she'd meant it as a subtle stab towards her older sister who seemed to be so happy and content with her new station in life, but now...well, it seemed that Calassë was the one shedding the tears for every pearl she wore, caused by the man she loved.

"My lady?"

Shaking her head, Calassë glanced over at Moirae, who was giving her a concerned look.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright? You seemed far away just now."

"I'm fine, Moirae, just tired."

"Tell me what's troubling you, Calassë, and I want the truth."

"What?" Calassë blinked, unsure of how to respond. Moirae had always been direct, this she knew, but this was a whole new side to her personality. She almost sounded upset. "There's nothing wrong, Moirae."

"And if you think I believe that for _one minute_, then you have no faith in the friendship we've forged over the last hundred or so years."

This time, there was also hurt in her voice, to which Calassë blushed in shame.

"Moirae, it's not something you should have to be burdened with."

"And I think I can handle myself, Calassë," the fiery maiden replied harshly, though she tried to soften her face. "Do you think I don't know that something's wrong? I've cared for you since you were a youngling, about to be sent to Yean. Don't you trust me?" The woman crossed her arms in displeasure. "I'm not stupid, Calassë, so don't treat me like I am."

"I never thought you were, Moirae. It's just that…" She blinked and looked at the ground in shame. "What I've done should not burden anyone but myself."

Moirae rolled her eyes.

"And there you go again."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're being the selfless martyr, Calassë, and I won't stand for it. You do know that the entire reason for having friends is so you can share your troubles, right?"

"I suppose you're right, yes."

"So are you going to tell me what's been bothering you?"

Sighing, Calassë tried to figure out how to put into words all that had transpired in the past few months. How could she? How could she possibly verbalize all the intense emotions roiling within her breast? How could she describe the passion that scalded her every time she was in his presence, and the turmoil that seared through her now he was gone?

"It is nothing more than matters of the heart," she finally concluded, knowing that didn't even come close to telling the whole truth. "Silly matters of the heart…problems I have brought upon myself."

At that, Moirae softened her gaze, noting the slump of her shoulders and the fire that was missing in her eyes.

"Calassë, didn't I always tell you that matters of the heart are never in someone's control?"

"I suppose you did."

"So this isn't your fault, Calassë. Whatever it is, you need to keep that in mind."

"But it's so much more complicated than that, Moirae."

The comment caused Moirae to stop and stare at her friend much more carefully, trying to read the emotions and thoughts passing over her face, before drawing back as her lips formed a silent '_o_'. It all made sense now; the way Calassë seemed to light up inwardly every time he entered the room, how lately his very presence seemed to cause her pain, their embrace in the garden this morning...

"You love him, don't you?" she finally said.

"_What?_" Calassë blinked.

"You love Qui-Gon, don't you?"

"I…he…that is…" Calassë couldn't seem to finish a sentence or complete a thought, disbelief clouding everything else. By Nyx, was she _that_ obvious? Were her emotions so easy to read that _anyone_ in the court could see what they had done just by looking at her face?

"Please don't lie to me, Calassë," Moirae pressed, clearly seeing that she had hit the centre of the target. Every argument she had been about to voice, every refute she'd been about to make seemed to fade away at that honest request. After all, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if Calassë had a friend of her own to rely upon. Qui-Gon had Obi-Wan; why couldn't she have Moirae?

"Yes," Calassë finally admitted, feeling her shoulders slump at the very thought of the situation she now found herself in. "I love him."

"Does he know?"

"Yes," Calassë mumbled, recalling that night that shouldn't have happened. Her cheeks flamed at the thought.

"Well?" Moirae asked impatiently, "Aren't you going to go after him?"

"No."

"But-"

"I'm willing to make this sacrifice, Moirae," Calassë replied, meaning every word despite the fact that the shattered remains of her ring were still scattered all over the floor.

"But Calassë…"

"I'm willing to do it because I love him so much," she continued, "So long as he is happy, I'm happy too. That will be enough."

"Will it, Calassë?"

"It will have to be. It's what I must do, Moirae," she finally whispered, looking away and clasping her cold fingers together. "Desire has lost. We both chose duty."

* * *

******Chapter fifty-nine. NO! I ****can't believe this is over already. But, we've got a third and final installment of the trilogy on the way, so keep an eye out! Thanks so much for sticking with me!********.********  
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**Please review!**

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